Harry Potter and the Defence Teacher
by Bitter Recognition
Summary: Harry Potter is a young boy, with a loving brother and a distant father. His family was targeted by Voldemort when he was a child and his mother died because of it. He is strong and has sworn to protect his twin brother, Charlie... Meanwhile, Professor Quirrel has taken up an unhealthy interest in the Potter twins and he will corrupt little Harry Potter, oh yes he would. Twin!Harry
1. The Boy Who Lived

**Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone**

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter! Lily has given birth to two beautiful little boys; would you like to see them now?" James nodded frantically and struggled not to shove the Healer out of the way in his haste to get to his boys. Twins? Twins were incredibly rare in the Magical world; the Weasley's had already had a set, George and Fred, the first set of twins in over twenty years. James briefly thought about the Patil twins, too, before he shot through the ward door and his worried eyes met the laughing, tired emeralds of his wife.

James grinned weakly and rushed over, knowing he wasn't allowed to run but still trying to. "Are you okay, my love?" He smoothed a small lock of red hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

"Yes," she murmured, loving eyes focussed on two blue bundles in her arms. "Look, James- Charles Everette Potter and Harold James Potter. Charlie and Harry, our little boys."

"Very strong names, my love." James nodded his approval and sheepishly moved the covers away from his two children. They weren't identical, that much he could already tell. One of them was tiny, with one hand balled into the covers. The other was larger and chubbier, his bright blue eyes looking around the room. There was a slight film on his eyes which James remarked on worriedly.

"It's fine, love." Lily smiled happily, propping the larger one up. "This is Charles," and James stroked his finger over his little boy's face. "He's the Second Born son to the House of Potter." James smiled widely and his eager eyes met his other son's face.

"This is the First Born?" he breathed, already sizing the two up. Why was Harry smaller if Charles was born second? "A fitting name." he remarked offhandedly sinking into the nearest available chair.

* * *

_At five months_

* * *

Harry still wasn't growing and James was getting worried. He'd put on a few pounds from birth but he was still tiny. "Don't worry, love." Lily smiled charmingly and kissed him on the chin. "He'll grow soon enough." James inwardly scoffed; it'd been five months now and he weighed six pounds. The Mediwizard's had told him that it was because Harry was such a small baby, but James still worried.

Charles took this moment to whine from his crib and James snapped into action, waving his wand to conjure up some coloured bubbles. Harry giggled happily and swatted at them, his bright green eyes wide. His eyes had faded from the baby-blue almost immediately, switching between an earthy-brown and green before they'd brightened into Lily's eyes. He had fine, wispy black hair on his head and he was a very happy baby, always smiling or clapping.

Charlie weighed a healthy nine pounds and he was a very _big _baby. The Mediwizard's had said Charlie was receiving more nutrients but James tuned them out, most of the time. Charles had sparkling hazel eyes, green in the centre and a fine coating of light auburn hair. James hoped it darken into Lily's fiery red, but he also hoped it'd darken to match his own. Charles was a colicky baby, grumpy and spent most of his time whinging, but James could handle that.

Charles grinned toothlessly and clapped his hands happily.

* * *

_At seven months_

* * *

"Charlie!" Sirius Black laughed, gently pulling on the child's hand to release his hair from the demon's grasp. Remus chuckled behind him, bouncing Harry in his arms.

"Pa'foo!" Harry giggled happily, wrapping his arms around Remus' neck. Padfoot froze in his attempts to stop the child grabbing his hair and looked at Remus in astonishment.

"LILY!" Sirius roared, passing Charlie to Remus and taking Harry from Remus' lax grip. "Say that again, Harry, go on..."

"Moo'ey!" Charlie chirped, pressing a wet kiss to the werewolves chin.

"_LILY_!"

* * *

_Christmas Day_

* * *

Harry cooed gently at the brightly coloured presents and began to chew on the edge of one of the gifts. "Ma ma," he babbled, pudgy fingers slapping down on the red and yellow box, loosening the bow. Lily laughed and gently removed Harry's mouth from the box (not before taking a picture, of course) and undid the bow, the box falling and revealing a tiny, baby-safety broom. Charlie was giggling loudly, having opened his broom before Harry and chewing on the fixed bristles.

James snorted and put Charlie onto the seat, strapping him into the baby chair and tapping the end of the broom with his wand. With a loud squeal, Charlie was flying around the room at two foot off of the floor. Lily watched fondly and took a picture of that, too, before pressing a smaller gift into Harry's palms. She guided his hands to the cage and unhooked the latch, feeling Harry jump when a tiny little ball of fur leapt at him. The kitten purred loudly and snuggled into Harry's Rudolph one-piece pyjama set. Lily curled his fingers down and tucked his thumb into the fist, stroking the kitten behind the ear. It was a cute little thing, a fully black little kitten apart from its paws. It had white paws.

"I think we'll call you Felix, little one," Lily smiled warmly as the tiny animal purred loudly, it's tail flicking contentedly. "I promise, Harry will look after you."

Charlie stopped giggling and demanded to let off of his broom, opening another present. He revealed another little kitten, this one with a white body and a ginger head. It had mismatched eyes, one blue and the other a very dark, almost black, brown. "Moo'ey!" Charlie chanted, picking the kitten up in his hands and cuddling it close to his chest. When the kitten yowled, James quickly separated the two and sent the kitten scurrying.

"I think we'll call you Calypso." Lily whispered to it, before pressing another, much smaller, gift into Harry's grabbing hands.

He giggled loudly and tore the purple paper apart, revealing a plush dragon toy. He giggled even louder and cuddled the toy to his chest. "Warr!"

* * *

_At eight months_

* * *

"Why is He coming after _us_?" Lily whispered harshly, shooting a vile glare at Severus Snape. He had endangered her family by telling his damned Lord about the Prophecy.

"Surely the fact that we had twins changes the Prophecy?" James added, stiffening in his chair and sitting straight-backed. He was Lord Potter now.

"It doesn't; it just means that one of them, as well as little Neville Longbottom, has the power the Dark Lord knows not." Dumbledore hooked his fingers together and thought.

"Severus, leave." James commanded rudely, subtly flashing the heavy ring on his thumb. Lily grimaced, but covered her expression well. "You are a _traitor _to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and I would find it detrimental to the Lord, Lady, Heir and Second to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter if you remained in this vicinity."

Dumbledore frowned and inclined his head at Severus. "By your leave shall we continue."

A murderous expression fouled the man's face but he nodded grimly and left Dumbledore's office. The disappointed glint in Dumbledore's eyes made James feel... _victorious._

"You shall stay at Godric's Hollow for the time being," Dumbledore murmured gravely, looking down at the grain pattern of his table. He was ashamed of James, but as James was well within his rights to do that, Dumbledore would say nothing more on the matter. "And you shall be placed under the protection of the _Fidelius _charm."

"Who should be the Secret Keeper?" James asked politely. Sirius?

"I was thinking myself-"

"With all due respect, sir, I was thinking more along the lines of friends." Lily added hastily. "Not that we wouldn't love for it to be you, sir, but if something went wrong..."

Dumbeldore inclined his head again and finally looked up, staring into Lily's green eyes. "Who will it be, then?"

"I was thinking Sirius!" Lily smiled, her green eyes crinkled in delight. "Sirius has the protection of Grimmauld Place and he would struggle to be found; I would trust him with my life."

"As do I," James added, nodding. "I think Sirius would be the best choice."

* * *

_At eight months_

* * *

Sirius had been shocked and overjoyed that he'd been appointed Secret Keeper, but he begrudged the fact that he was unable to continue his Auror duty. "Mate..." Sirius breathed, his grey eyes wide. "This is _big - _not Death Eater big, You-Know-Who big!"

"Yes, Siri, we know." Lily smiled warmly and chuckled, blowing on her hot, very sweet, tea. "I've jinxed, hexed, warded and double warded the house to the foundations to the roof."

Sirius nodded knowingly and gave her a tiny smile. Sirius, in his seventh year gave Lily the Black book of protection for her to translate and learn from; it contained Latin, Japanese, Spanish and basic English magic that the Black's had hoarded over the years.

* * *

Lily grimaced and waved her wand counter-clockwise, before roughly jabbing at the rock and flicking it high into the air. Similarly, tonnes upon tonnes of pebbles and rocks surrounding her rose into the air and span on her command. Red threads began to leave the tip of her wand as she whispered, "_Domito._" The rocks shook with the spell and she slowly lowered them to the ground, spreading the protection around the house in a wide circle. Anybody who was felt to be an intruder would be pelted with rocks. Highly sped up, sharp rocks (made this way with the _Uruz _rune and the _Hagalaz _rune).

She drew another rune symbol in the air with her wand, the _Kenaz _symbol, to ward away any illusions or sight-distorting spells.

She smiled at wiped the sweat from her brow, before picking up one of the kittens she'd found in a disposal bin. She gave it a pitying look and steeled herself for what she was about to do, before picking up the Potter ceremonial knife and slitting the animal's throat. The kitten mewled weakly before she drained the blood herself into a basin. She pooled the blood at the front door of the cottage and slit her arm with the knife. This particular blood magic ritual needed a sacrifice as well as blood from the mother. Blood magic was a very dangerous thing, but Lily would do anything for her family.

She used the knife to draw the _Eihwaz _and _Algiz _symbol into the front step which would protect her family from harm.

She felt physically weak, but she plowed on regardless. As a Muggleborn, it was presumed she was weak and knew nothing- even the Black's themselves could only complete two rituals directly after the first, but here she was. She'd successfully completed two already, and felt strong enough to carry on.

She picked herself up from the floor and entered her house, careful not to touch the blood before it sank into the ground. She returned outside with packets of cat food and fed the remaining three kittens, before sending them on their way. Maybe they'd find a nice home?

She circled the house once, twice, before pulling out two sprigs of holly from her bag. She rubbed a small amount of magic-imbued 'protection oil' onto the holly leaves and wrapped a red ribbon around one of the stems. _Holly, holly, berry bright, protect this house, day and night. Protect us from evil, holly, with your berries so bright as the cold falls every night._

She pinned the two sprigs to the front and back door, each coupled with bright red ribbons from her childhood. She smiled again and nodded, entering the cottage.

She stumbled up the stairs, drinking a pepper-up as she went, before she entered the twins room. It was a light blue colour, with moving clouds on the walls that changed colour when night descended.

She opened her duffel bag and removed white, red and yellow candles and lit them with her father's zippo lighter. This ritual needed to use items that Lily held with emotional attachment, so she placed Charlie's and Harry's baby blankets on a table and placed the lit candles onto the blankets. She then removed a small bag of salt from her bag and spread it out in a large circle, making sure there was no breakage in the circle. She removed three copper plates from the bag and sent the candles onto them, filling the slightly inclined plates full of baby hair, Sirius' hair, James' hair and Lily's blood. She hummed softly and weaved her hands gently throughout the triangle formation, magic thumming into her finger tips as they danced over the flames.

"By the blood of the parent, hair of the Beloved Godfather, I call upon you, mothering spirits." Her eyes rolled back in her head but she held her ground, even as the wind picked up around her and tousled her hair. "_Mayoke_, my divine spirits. Protect my children as you would your own."

The wind nipped at her skin and chilled her to the bone, before she was filled with a feeling of warmth and love.

The spirits had offered their protection- if harm was to befall the children, the spirits would help Lily to save them, even if it meant her death.

Lily would do anything for her family.

* * *

Lily gave him a knowing look and inclined her head to the front door. "We have some holly, for protection."

Sirius just shook his head and smiled.

* * *

_At nine months old_

* * *

Alice Longbottom shook James' hand and embraced Lily, juggling her son, Neville, in her arms. "I don't know how you cope with two, Lils!" She chortled, pressing the squirming baby into Lily's arms and falling into a red loveseat.

"It's been hard," Lily admitted, a smile twisting on her lips. "But it's worth it."

Alice gave her a fond look before taking Neville back, rocking him against her bosom. "How are they?"

"They're already talking!" Lily gushed, sitting beside Alice on the plush sofa. "Oh, it's brilliant- Harry say's 'Padfoot' and 'Ma' and Charlie says 'Moony' and 'Dada', they're already so advanced! Harry can sit by himself properly now, but Charlie- He can crawl! How's Neville doing?"

"Neville's been babbling but he's up and about, alternating between crawling and stepping on his tippy-toes. Magically..." Alice began to look very troubled, her brow furrowing and her dark eyes lidding slightly. "We've had him tested and the Healer's informed us that he has the capacity to be 'normal'; not great, just normal. Right now he's at 4.39 on the _Magical Measure _and I just worry - he'll get teased for it."

Lily frowned and clasped Alice's hand in her own. She'd had the boys tested as well; Charlie was at 7.82 on the scale while Harry was at 13.943 on the scale, the highest rated child since 1809. Lily kept the figures to herself and wiped the records clean. The Healer had also told her that Harry's core was still growing and would continue to grow until he was fifteen, before it was stabilise on its own. Charlie's would stabilise when he first received his wand but his growth wouldn't be as rapid or as large as Harry's would be. Charlie was rated as 'great' on the small chart she'd been given, whereas Harry was marked 'astronomical'.

No, Lily thought determinedly, Harry's powers would stay with Lily until the day she died.

The Healer had also remarked that the twins shared a deeper bond- Charlie took the nutrients, Harry took the power. Basically, Charlie was Harry's powerhouse and if that bond wasn't destroyed, it could kill them both. Magic sharing was _unheard _of, even for the Healer's who used their own magic to heal other people. Their magic would have to be **identical**, right down to the core size - and Charlie's was smaller than Harry's. The bond could be broken- _should_, but Lily wouldn't do it. If Charlie could use Harry's magic for himself, then surely it was the correct thing to do, right? There was a war and her children would be thrust into the brink of it.

No, the bond will stay.

"Don't worry, Alice. Neville's core will grow and expand as you love and nourish him. He's not inferior, sweetie. He's not weak, he's normal. He won't get teased for it."

"What about your boys?" Alice perked up slightly, gently tugging Neville's fingers away from her short hair.

"Charlie scored 7.82," Lily beamed in pride and her thrice damned maternal instincts kicked in. "Harry scored 5.116, but as Harry grows it'll grow larger until they'll be balanced, I'm sure."

Alice gave her the tiniest of smiles; she felt comfortable with her own son, knowing that Lily's boy was 'weak' too. But he wasn't, and he never would be.

* * *

Lily blinked away her tears and gave a shaky smile. "I love you, James."

James gave her a grim frown, his jaw set in a determined position. Voldemort was coming and emotions would be weak at this time.

He took his wand and stood, almost lazily, in a slouched position. His shoulders were held back loosely and his feet were splayed for better balance. There were wardrums pounding in his head.

Lily took the boys after a solemn nod and before chanting under her breath full activating the spells in the boys rooms. She set Harry in the first crib, visible to the door, while she pushed Charlie into the other crib and covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. If - _if_ Voldemort had killed her, and killed Harry - she didn't know what to do. Harry was the stronger of the two. His magic was pulsating, warm, and Charlie's was _brilliant_ but not as strong and she didn't know what to _do_; was she signing a death sentence for her stronger son or was she hoping Voldemort would go for the obvious choice to the prophecy child even know he _didn't_ know?

She bit harshly down on her thumb and traced a lightning bolt into Harry's forehead, drawing a tiny blossom over his heart. She then traced a lightning bolt over her own heart and a blossom on her forehead. She didn't know what to do.

She saw fire in the distance and hoped James would be safe - he had to be! For her runes to work, she needed to die. She hoped he didn't die; her boys needed their daddy. He was alive, surely - surely. There was a new fire burning in her eyes now, determined.

But by God, she felt sick.

Harry put his tiny hand in hers and gave her a tiny smile, his green eyes flickering with sleep. "Love you, mummy."

She finally let the tears fall and something, someone _higher_ snapped. They would protect this family.

"I love you too, sweetie. I need you to do something, okay?" she whispered, hearing the door slam open. "I need you to focus on mummy and you need to protect you and Charlie, okay? Just focus on me and protect yourself."

Harry's green eyes seemed so much darker when he nodded solemnly. "Wai' for me, mummy."

Oh _God - _James was down. She heard a loud bang and a sharp yelp - her husband was down and there was a **monster **coming for her two babies. She didn't know what to do. She didn't pay attention to what her baby just said, just pressed him close to her breast and nuzzled her nose into his hair. She wouldn't see her two boys grow up. She wouldn't see their weddings, her first grandchild...

The bedroom door slammed open with a loud bang but she retained her position, chanting sweet nothings to her baby.

Scarlet eyes glared at them menacingly.

"Mummy, wai' for me!" Harry demanded again and she finally paid attention, emerald eyes snapping open in despair.

He would not die.

"Well isn't this... _Touching_." A smooth voice interrupted Lily's moment and she dropped her son into the crib, whirling around, wand tucked behind her back, eyes furious.

"Fuck you!"

"_Crucio._"

Immediately she dropped to the floor, screaming and howling in agony. Cold eyes watched blankly, while widened green ones watched in childish shock.

"Mummy!" Harry cooed and the spell stopped with a flick of his tiny hand, sending it onto the wall. Voldemort gazed in shock as his hand most _certainly _felt that shock!

Lily grasped Harry's hand in her own and she grinned darkly, blood dribbling down her chin from where she'd gone down. "You're **dead fucked**." she hissed, before drawing her wand and snapping it in two, the unicorn hair falling to the ground. One single drop of blood fell on the wand core and it began to glow.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he howled and she dropped to the floor, grim amusement still in her eyes.

Voldemort turned to the face the child, the other boy still sleeping. He absently noticed there was a sleeping charm on the red headed child and he was hidden under a blanket that made him physically invisible, but crouched low to this anomaly. How had he twisted Voldemort's hand to the wall?

"Hello." Harry greeted, his eyes wise. "Hu' are you?"

"I am Lord Voldemort, but you can call me Marvolo." Voldemort said carefully, eyeing the lightning bolt on the child's forehead. It was probably nothing- so what is the niggling in the back of his head?

"Mar'vu'lo?" Harry tried, not affected by his mothers death. The woman standing next to her body was proof enough that she was safe now, with her curling red hair and sparkling emerald eyes. Mummy was safe and she would watch over him.

"Marvolo," Voldemort corrected before he sighed, standing up. "Good bye, Mr. Potter."

"Good bye, Marvolo." Harry smiled happily at the man before a bright flash of green light hit the child, the blood on his forehead sizzling and glowing.

The spell rebounded.

Voldemort screeched and burned to a crisp, while the woman gave Harry a smile. Voldemort messed with the wrong Mudblood. "_Good bye, my love. Be strong, be brave... Love your brother and father, for I cannot._"


	2. The Aftermath

James shot up, his heart pounding. What was this feeling? He felt... empty. Like someone had taken away a limb.

Sirius gave him a grim look. "How're you doing, mate?"

"Where's Lily?" James spat, trying but failing to move his legs. "Where are my boys?"

"James - " Sirius began, before James finally took in where he was. The walls were white marble, with pretty stained glass windows allowing the sun to peek through.

He was at St. Mungo's, and Voldemort had attacked his family. "They're all dead, aren't they?" he gasped out, before he groaned loudly and began to sob and shudder like a little boy.

"James - " Sirius lay a careful hand of James' back and began to rub soothing circles. "James, Harry and Charlie are fine but Lily- Lily's dead, James. She gave her life to enact the S_acrificet Salvum Familia_ ritual."

The translation of the Latin words came easily to James and he let out another harsh sob. She'd saved them all, at the sake of her own life.

* * *

"He's a mess." Sirius spoke bluntly, leaning against the ward door. Dumbledore nodded, his eyes dim.

"How are the boys?" Dumbledore asked, calm and collected. "Especially young Harry..."

"Charlie is fine; he's shaken up, but... Harry? His magical core is absolutely depleted and there's a dark mass of _something _clinging to it. It has tendrils that have his magical core trapped, so we can't remove it without damaging Harry's magical core. For the time being, it's benign, but it needs to be monitored." Sirius voice shook with uncontrolled rage. "Fucking Snape- How dare he do this to them-?"

"Sirius... There is also the matter of the Secret Keeper."

"We swapped to Pettigrew at the last moment..." Sirius admitted. "If we hadn't, Lily would be still alive - It's all my fault!" Dumbledore said nothing as the grown man began to cry.

The aurors would have to be sent out for Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

James tucked the two boys beneath his chin and gave Sirius a look.

He swathed the pair in blankets before leaving the hospital, stepping into the busy street. He'd need to go to Gringott's. He walked up the street with his head kept low, Harry snoozing lightly in his arms while Charlie eyed the world with bright eyes. His hair was a shade of coppery red that was so much lighter than Lily's that it made James' heart ache. Harry's beautiful little eyes hadn't opened either, which made him feel better.

He quickly stepped up the marble stairs that led to the bank and he nodded respectfully at the Goblin soldier's that guarded the entrance.

James walked up to his favoured Goblin, Tanemor, bowing his head in another show of respect. "James Potter," the Goblin gave him a sharp smile. "How may I help you today?"

"I would like to discuss the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter with Jaggertooth."

"Of course," the Goblin lowered his voice considerably. "We are terribly sorry for your loss, wizard. Lily Potter was a formidable woman who garnered the Goblin's respect the moment Griphook was pushed to the ground."

James gave the teller a tiny grimace but his eyes were shining. "Thank you."

The teller nodded again and his sharp voice rang out. "Griphook!"

A much smaller Goblin, probably just over a foot tall, stood to attention and took James into the bowels of the bank. "I am sorry, sir."

Griphook could remember Lily Potter - the only witch he'd ever bothered to take note of. A snooty woman, fifteen generations of Pureblood ancestry behind her, had pushed the Goblin to the floor once he'd sneered at her remark. Lily Potter, brazen in her Muggle blood, had hexed the witch seven shades of green before giving her such a mouthful that the woman was ready to cry. It was only James' hand on Lily's waist that stopped the woman from retaliating, because the Potter blood was purer than most - possibly even the Malfoy's.

Griphook had been shocked by such an event and treated Little Miss Evans with such kindness she was beside herself in worry!

"It is fine..." James hummed, shushing his red haired child. Griphook said nothing more and rapped on Jaggertooth's door.

"Enter!" The Goblin opened the door for the wizard and held it there, before closing the door and guarding it.

James lay Charlie down on his lap and nestled Harry beneath his armpit. "Mr. Potter."

"Jaggertooth." James replied, finally sagging down and showing his weakness to the Goblin. Jaggertooth frowned and clicked his fingers, summoning another Goblin.

"Bring Mr. Potter two baby bottles of milk, lukewarm, a bowl of chicken broth and a mug of warm cider." The Goblin nodded and left.

James seemed shocked but quickly wiped the expression; he didn't want to seem like he wasn't grateful. "I need to check the funds-"

"Mr. Harry Potter has currently received 3462 galleons, 389 sickles and 1097 knuts for his act for the Wizarding world." James' brow furrowed in confusion; _what?_

"Harry Potter has been crowned as the Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Potter," Jaggertooth told him carefully. "For defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Anger immediately overtook James' expression and Jaggertooth carried on. "I have already split it in half to be shared between both children, because sending it back would be classed as rude and you would be ostracised. I am sorry if this is not your desire."

James deflated and gave the Goblin in a smile. "You know me, Jaggertooth. I would have done that myself. Has he received anything else?"

"We also took the liberty of redirecting any items to the Potter vault and he has received 46 jinxed, hexed and cursed letters, as well as four family ceremonial daggers and marriage proposals. The marriage proposals were declined, the family daggers were placed into the Potter family vault and those letters..." The Goblin grinned darkly. "Well."

James didn't bother to ask, but he tucked Harry a little more closer into his body. His lips were suddenly very dry and licked him nervously. "A-and Lily?" His voice cracked.

"Lily Potter has received a large sum of Galleons, much more than Harry here, as well as items of furniture and condolence letters." Jaggertooth took the moment of silence to lean back in his chair. "We took the liberty of putting aside a Trust Fund for your two boys for Hogwarts."

The Goblin returned with the food and James sipped the cider delicately, thanking the Goblin with a nod. He bounced his legs up, waking Charlie up fully, before placing the teat of the bottle into his eager little mouth. Harry sneezed and James stuck the other bottle into his mouth. Harry smiled around the teat and snuggled into James' body, sucking happily on the bottle. James smiled weakly and began to sip the broth thoughtfully.

"There is the matter of where you are going to stay, James." Jaggertooth dropped the formality and began flicking through his book. A gnarled finger dragged down the page until he stopped at a long list of properties.

"Are we going to see if we can salvage anything from Godric's Hollow?" James nodded yes and Jaggertooth wrote it down in the book. "Would you like to sell any properties? You have the Cheshire Cottage, Cheshire Castle, Devon Manor and the Staffordshire Mansion in your name."

"Please could I get rid of the Cottage?" James begged, even though that was probably the best property he owned. He didn't want to go near a cottage any more.

Jaggertooth nodded, marking -MARKET 150000 G- next to the property. It was a very expensive property, even without the items it held.

"Where would you like the items to be moved to?"

"We'll be moving to Cheshire Castle, so could they be transferred there?"

Jaggertooth nodded, placing an X next to castle. It was a beautiful property; it was surrounded by lush gardens and a large moat protected the area. It even had Merpeople living in it who'd protected the Potter family through centuries gone by.

"Now, is there anything else you require?"

"No, thanks."

* * *

Once James had removed a _considerable _amount of gold from his vault, he first stopped by "Baby Baby", a popular baby and toddler shop that had opened very recently.

He quickly bought a double-seater pram and seated his two boys in it, Harry wearing a tight beanie that hid his scar from view. He also bought some self-cleaning nappies and wipes, as well as baby powder and oil.

He faltered at the clothing, before sighing. James picked out several sets of clothing, as those had destroyed once Godric's Hollow went up in flames, that expanded and grew as the boys grew.

He bought little boots, gloves, hats, scarves, before buying and leaving. Harry was babbling to himself, something about "Mummy" and "Marvulo" but James didn't pay much attention.

* * *

Harry gave mummy a little wave before asking, "Where are you, mummy?"

Lily smiled warmly and stroked his hair gently. "I'm gone, Harry, but I'm still here."

"What did Marvolo do, mummy?" Harry cooed, blowing a tiny bubble and giggling when it popped on his mouth.

Lily frowned and attempted to wipe the spit away, but her hand passed straight through him. Harry burst into tiny giggles and he leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to her face. Lily's eyes widened in disbelief when she felt the sticky wetness on her face; what? It was odd enough that he could see her, but for him to be able to touch her?

"Love you, mummy."

Lily swallowed heavily before whispering, "I love you too..."

What was Harry doing? What... _was Harry_?

* * *

James flooed into the castle and juggled the items he'd bought between the two bouncing boys. A set of five house-elves popped in as he left the grit.

"Master Potter!" they chorused, bright blue eyes staring at the man. One of them, an excitable house-elf called Dolly took the boys from him and began to shush them in her arms, while another one, Timmy, enlarged the shrunken items.

"Sir, we gots sent some kitties!" The smallest one told him brightly. "And some jewels and clothes and furniture- oh but where is miss Lily?"

"She- ah- died," James stammered, licking his dry lips. "We- we were attacked and-" The room was too hot; James couldn't breath, there was a sharp lump at the back of his throat-

Before he was aware of collapsing, he was crying and sobbing and dry-heaving while the house-elves snapped into work. One of them soothingly rubbed his back before he felt the claws of unconsciousness pull him into a dull slumber.

Lily watched in stoic silence, ghostly tears running down her face. Only Harry could see her, but her husband needed her most. Harry watched as the man fell dispassionately, his eyes glinting darkly, almost calculatingly, before the expression left his cherub face and he looked straight for Lily.

* * *

It was the twins second birthday, but it was the first time James had baked a cake without Lily telling him what to do.

Sirius and Remus were sat at the mahogany kitchen table, Remus cutting Harry's food into bite-sized pieces and Sirius cutting up Charlie's. Harry's attention always seemed to be elsewhere...

* * *

Harry gave his gran a massive smile, picking up a tiny piece of sausage and putting it in his mouth. "I'm two today!" he told her excitedly and she smiled warmly, nudging Charles with her corporeal elbow.

"Look at our big boys, aye?" she cooed, passing a hand through James' body absent-mindedly. James froze and quickly put the flour into the bowl.

Charles grinned cheekily and ruffled Harry's hair, before fading away.

Lily gave her in-law a confused look. "Why do you think Harry can do this?"

Dorea sighed, smoothing out her pale blonde hair in thought. "In the Black family... We have _Necromancer _blood and it skips so many generations, we assumed it would be gone from our blood forever. Look how bright Harry's eyes are, Lily."

Lily stared into Harry's eyes but she didn't know what to look out for; sure, they were emerald and even brighter than her own, but...

"They're _too _bright for a normal human, Lily." Dorea sighed again. How could she tell Lily that her baby boy was dangerous? That _this _was dangerous? This small interaction could have twisted Harry's blessed soul beyond repair.

Lily hummed and studied his eyes even closer. Harry giggled loudly at the interaction and that's when she saw it; if Harry was happy, his eyes brightened slightly but they _glowed_.

"Necromancy?" she whispered weakly.

* * *

James grinned triumphantly as his cake had _risen _and looked pretty damn snazzy with the icing!

_Happy birthday, Harry_

_Happy birthday, Charlie_

_Two today!_

He'd even managed to enchant little snitches to whiz around on the icing- just how amazing was he, huh? Sirius watched him in bemusement before picking the two boys up and taking them into their shared bedroom. Remus quickly took Harry and changed him out of the dark blue and white polka dot romper suit, opting for some little jeans and a cute little hooded shirt.

Remus' sensitive ears picked up the sound of floo and knew it was nearly time for the little party; James had been very reclusive months after Lily had died but enough had been enough. Remus and Sirius left the twin boys with Molly and Authur and took James out for a royal piss-up, until they were all sick from firewhiskey but laughing and happy.

It was hard, but James was coping. There were days where he didn't want to get out of his cold bed because he felt sick and he was tired and cold and sad, but then his baby boys would cry and whine and he'd grudgingly get out of bed.

There were some days where he was full of life and would shout "Morning Lily!" when he'd go into the kitchen, to find Harry's blinking emerald eyes staring up at him with his hand in the cookie jar.

Sirius laughed as Charlie hissed and spat, objecting to wearing clothes. "No, no, no Padfoot!"

Charlie writhed off the table wearing his baby boy boxers and nothing more, which made the man laugh harder. He locked the door and picked the boy up around the wast, tickling him as he squealed. Harry looked at him with an expression of childish distaste, which set Remus off.

* * *

_Massive time skip_

_Aged eleven_

* * *

Remus and Sirius had officially moved into the Potter Castle and Remus had become the boys official tutor, getting paid a sum of ten Galleons for every hour he taught the boys.

The boys were a pleasure to teach, absorbing information like a sponge. Remus had them take an IQ test when they were ten and they were both genius' in their own right- Charlie's IQ was 127 while Harry came in at 159.

Harry grinned happily and changed into suitable robes, before clutching Sirius' hand in his own.

Charlie took Remus', and they were off to buy their supplies for Hogwarts.

They were spat out of the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron but Sirius retained his grip on Harry and kept him stable; he smoothed the ruffled hair back over the distinctive scar and waited for the other two.

Charlie stumbled to the floor while Remus sniggered quietly to himself. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance and tugged on the man's hand. "Can we split up? It will make this take less time, we can meet up at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, right?"

Remus shrugged and Harry grinned, waving "Hi!" to Tom. "Where to first, Siri?"

"Probably the Apothecary... What is that you need again?" Sirius tapped the bricks and entered the dingy Apothecary quickly.

"Erm... Cauldron, pewter, size two, but Dad said we could get anything for pranks." Harry hummed to himself as Mum picked out the items for him with a fond smile, while Charlie chose the most expensive scales in the store.

Harry ended up leaving with several cauldrons, collapsible scales and large sets of phials for his potions. Sirius shrunk them down and placed them in Harry's pocket.

"Where to now, boss?" Sirius asked, twirling down the busy street.

"I need an owl... Dad said it could be a birthday present from you." Harry grinned cheekily, avoiding the arm that was swung over his head.

"What about Felix and Calypso?" Sirius sighed; his wallet was going to empty by the end of this, he just knew it.

"Charlie said that Calypso was staying with Remus, so Felix is too." Harry informed him, holding the door open for a young _(presumably Muggleborn)_ witch to go through first.

Harry browsed through the owls before he took notice of a lovely snowy owl sitting in the rafters. "That one, Siri!" Harry pointed to the owl in awe and Sirius groaned. It was beauty, but how much would it cost?

"Oi, mate!" Sirius called the shopping assistant over, pointing up at the owl. "How much for it?"

"That one?" the assistant grinned wickedly. "You'll have to get her down, first. Tell you what - get her down and she's free."

Harry smirked and whistled through his teeth. The owl's head snapped to him and her beady yellow eyes watched him curiosity. He held out his arm invitingly and she swooped down, nipping affectionately at his dark hair.

Sirius smirked too and looked at the speechless assistant with an expectant eyebrow risen. "I'll need mice, treats, water and food bowls and a decent cage, please."

The assistant groaned and nodded, getting them the required items.

"Where to now, squirt?"

"I need quills, parchment, ink..." Harry trailed off. "Give me the money and I'll go get it."

Sirius handed over the money and Harry shot off, crossing the street and buying the required items. He met Sirius outside and entered Flourish and Blott's.

"The Standard Book of Spells grade one, A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beats and Where to Find Them and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection." Harry recited to Sirius who groaned loudly and went about finding the books. Harry grinned; Dad had given them extra money to buy sweets, but Harry was going to buy more reading material.

"Standard Book of Spells grade two, three, four, five, six, seven... Theory of Transfiguration? Go ahead. Defensive Magical Theory, Advanced Potion Making, Moste Potente Potions, A Dunderhead's Guide to Ingredients by Severus Snape?" Harry sniggered to himself and added it to his massive pile of books. "Enchantment in Baking? Dad could do with that one... The Healer's Helpmate? Don't mind if I do! Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed, Spellman's Syllabary, Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts..." His pile of books was even taller than himself! How many books was it? Seventeen? He added four blank books into the pile as well, so he could write notes from the Hogwarts library and record spells, potions, anything!

He bought them all and waited for Sirius to find the other books he needed. When the man **finally **appeared, looking flustered but holding the books in triumph, he looked at the other books he'd bought and hoped Sirius would shrink them down.

"Jesus Christ, kid!" Sirius groaned. Harry grinned; Sirius had gotten the Muggle saying from Lily.

"Madam Malkin's next." Harry told him as he shrunk the purchases. "Let's go."

The strode to Madam Malkin's and Harry entered on his own, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve, a rather unflattering colour. "Hogwarts, dear?" she said before Harry could open his mouth. "Got everything here - another young man being fitted right now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned his school robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long dark robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length. Harry was a rather short boy, standing at a dismal 4'8.

"Hullo!" greeted the other boy. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands." He had a very bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own - I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry smirked in agreement; he was very studious, but he loved to fly. He was a good Seeker.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy carried on.

"Yes, I got the Nimbus 2000 for my birthday," he admitted sheepishly. "It's today, see- I'm not spoiled or anything!" Harry hastened his speaking - the boy seemed all right but he lacked proper social skills.

"Did you really?" The boys eyes seemed to light up. "Well, happy birthday. I'll have to tell father... What position do you play?"

"My favoured position is Seeker," Harry told him excitedly. "What's yours? What broom do you have?"

"I'm a decent Chaser and I have the latest Cleansweep." The other boy seemed passionate about the sport, just like Harry. "Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Both of my parents were in Gryffindor, but I think I'm more of a Ravenclaw or Slytherin..."

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin! All our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff; I think I'd leave, don't you?"

Harry hummed in agreement, until dark figures outside caught his eye. He turned to see his Dad grinning and waving at him, holding his favourite type of ice cream! Vanilla, generously coated in raspberry sauce and chocolate buttons.

"I say - is that James Potter? Why is he - " the boy squinted at Harry and the tip of Harry's scar became visible. "Harry Potter?" He gasped loudly.

Harry gave him another sheepish smile. "Got it in one, huh?"

"Well, I'm Draco Malfoy!" Draco Malfoy stuck his hand out expectantly and Harry took it with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Draco Malfoy."

"You're done, dear." Madam Malkin interrupted their conversation and gave Harry a small clap on the back. "Do you require anything else, besides the uniform?"

"Please may I also have some dragonhide boots? And thermal socks?" Harry gave her a charming smile and she obliged, sighing happily. It seems she made a good impression on the Boy-Who-Lived.

She handed him his purchases with a smile and shrunk them herself. "They're self-repairing and self-cleaning!"

"Good bye, Draco Malfoy. I shall see you at Hogwarts, I assume?" Harry asked teasingly.

Draco Malfoy gave him a cocky smirk in reply. "I bid you farewell, Mr. Potter."

Harry strode out of the shop and wordlessly handed Sirius his purchases, before throwing his arms around James. Charlie gave Harry a tiny smile, licking at his strawberry and chopped nut cone. "Hi, dad!"

"Where to now, son?"

"I just need my wand now, what about you, Charlie?" Harry asked, releasing his dad from the tight grip.

"Wand," he shrugged. "Got everything else."

A magic wand... This is what Harry had been waiting for.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. _A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which James sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he'd entered the Black family library; he swallowed his questions and looked instead at the thousands of boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. The back of his neck tickled as he felt foreign magic surround him.

Charlie extended a hand to Harry which he took gratefully.

"Good afternoon," came a soft voice. Harry and Charlie jumped as one; Sirius and Remus began to laugh quietly to themselves while James leaned forward with a happy smile on his face.

An old man was standing before them, wide pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Hello." Charlie and Harry chorused.

"Yes..." spoke the man. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harold and Charles Potter. You have your mother's eyes, Mr. Potter. It seems like only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." The pale eyes shot to James.

"James Potter... You favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration - I assume you still have it?" James flushed like a scolded school boy and nodded. "Sirius Black! Fifteen inches, vine wood, unyeilding- Remus Lupin. Thirteen inches, ash, springy. Good for defence."

Remus and Sirius both nodded their agreements.

"I say _favoured_- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand; very powerful and in the wrong hands... Well, if I'd have known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and eyed Charlie. "Well, which one of you will go first?"

"I will," Charlie grinned brightly, attempting to ease the dark atmosphere Mr. Ollivander had created. Mr. Ollivander removed a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed," said Charlie.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Charlie from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical subject, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course you will never get good results with another wizards wand."

Charlie belatedly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing it on its own. _Wicked_. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do." he said and the tape measure fell into a crumbled heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible - just give it a wave."

Charlie took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. "Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite whippy - " Charlie tried but he'd hardly raised the wand before it was snatched out of his hand.

"How about this? Elder, unicorn hair, fourteen inches, springy. Go on, try it out!" Charlie did as instructed, feeling quite bored, until a feeling of _right _overcame him. He smiled brilliantly and waved his wand, a shower of white and blue sparks leaving the tip of the smooth wand.

"Excellent!" Mr. Ollivander beamed. "That will be seven Galleons."

James handed him the money and clapped his hand on Charlie's shoulder proudly. "Well done, son."

Harry smiled at Mr. Ollivander and he repeated the tape measure process. Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was expecting him to do with these wands because none were right. The pile of tried wands were mounting higher and higher on the man's desk, but the more wands he seemed to go through the more excited Mr. Ollivander became!

"Tricky customer, aye? Not to worry; we'll find the perfect match in here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes! Why not? An unusual combination - Yew and phoenix feather; eleven inches. A very powerful wand, indeed. Useful for black magic. Unyielding - yes, that's it. Just give it a wave."

Harry felt at one with this piece of wood and he brought it over his head, slashed it down through the dusty air and a stream of red and green sparks left his wand like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. Charlie whooped and clapped as Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. How curious, however... Very curious indeed..."

"Excuse me..." Harry intervened. "What's curious?" Mr. Ollivander neatly plucked the two wands away from the boys and placed them into their respective boxes, wrapping them in brown paper.

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with a pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather. Just one. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen and half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we will see great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things. Terrible, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander much. Dad paid seven Galleon's for his wand and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.


	3. The Train Ride

Harry's last month at home was sad; he spent most of his time copying tomes out from the Potter library into his journals and practising basic charms.

_Wand-Lighting Charm_

_**Lumos**_

_(Loo-moss)_

_Causes the tip of the casters wand to emit a warm glow._

_It's the simplest but best spell of them all if stuck in a pinch. Not only can the light produced illuminate dark areas like a lantern (which is in itself very useful) but it is the only known spell effective at repelling spectral foes, such as Gytrashes and malevolent spirits._

_Move the hand in a swirl formation (see diagram below)._

Harry copied the spell to memory as well as into his journal as the first entry, before picking up his wand and copying the incantation. He ran it through his brain before copying the hand movement. "_Lumos_!"

The tip of his wand lit up in a bright flash, before flickering out after five seconds. He frowned and tried again and again, before he had put it down as "Done and dusted", ticking the name in his book.

The light faded away once he stopped powering his magic to it and he flicked to the next page.

_Wand-Extinguishing Charm_

_**Nox**_

_(__**Nock**__sss)_

_It is the counter-spell to __**Lumos**__ and causes the light to be extinguished._

_Make a wave movement with a flick at the end (see diagram below)._

Harry hummed and lit his wand, before chanting, "_Nox_." The light went out and he grinned, flicking to the next page after making his notes.

_Cushioning Charm_

_**Incumba**_

_(In-Cum-Bah)_

_Creates an unseen softening effect on a target surface. It is primarily used in broomstick manufacturing to make brooms more comfortable for riders, but it is also useful in regular household environments and even in fights._

_Flick wand up and swirl (see diagram below)._

Harry made more notes about the first year charms, until he finished the Charm text. He went over his notes before writing (with flourish):

_Charms are a type of magic that enchant an object to behave in a way that isn't normal for that object. A charm could cause something to flash different colours, or an object to levitate; charms can make a person laugh or cry- the object or person doesn't change. They just do something unexpected. Sometimes, if a spell isn't transfiguration, it's a charm._

He smiled happily at his notes and moved onto potions.

_Potions are magical liquids created by mixing various ingredients in a cauldron according to very specific sets of rules. These concoctions will usually be drunk to give their effect. The ingredients in potions range from plain ingredients, such as animal hair, to the bizarre, like dragon liver._

He flicked through his books before marking the potions he would find useful to make.

_Cure for Boils_

_Potion to cure boils._

**Add 6 snake fangs to the mortar. **  
**Crush into a fine powder using the pestle. **  
**Add 4 measures of the crushed fangs to your cauldron. **  
**Heat the mixture to 250 for 10 seconds. **  
**Wave your wand to help seal the potion.**  
**Leave to brew and return in 45 minutes. **  
**Add 4 horned slugs to your cauldron. **  
**Take the cauldron off the fire before adding the next ingredient. **  
**Add 2 porcupine quills to your cauldron. **  
**Stir 5 times, clockwise. **  
**Wave your wand to complete the potion.**

It was a First Year potion and he wanted to make a good impression; Remus had told him that the man teaching was called Severus Snape who didn't like the Potters at all. It wouldn't do well to upset or taunt him.

Harry found the Dunderhead's Guide to Ingredients and read it cover to cover before the nights end.

* * *

Charlie bounced on Harry's bed, grinning from ear to ear. "We're going to Hogwarts today!"

Harry gave him a fond shove and wrestled his pillows and duvet into his trunk, before placing his journals and everything else in there as well. "We'll still be close, right?" Harry asked nervously. "Regardless of House?"

"Of course!" Charlie took Harry's hand in his own and Harry felt tonnes better - Charlie always had that effect on people.

"Ready, boys?" James called, taking time away from his busy job to take the boys to the Train station.

"Yes!" they chorused.

* * *

" - packed with Muggles, of course - " A familiar voice sounded above the crowd and Charlie turned to face Mrs. Weasley with a content smile on his face. He nudged Harry and the pair went to follow them to the platform. James trailed behind with a large, nostalgic grin on his face.

"Hello Fred, George." Harry greeted the two, although they seemed to have swapped knitted jumpers - Fred's maroon and golden jumper read "G" while George's similar jumper read "F". Their pleading eyes met his.

"All right - "

"It's the Potters - "

"Itty bitty Potters - "

"Off to Hogwarts - "

"With 'ittle - "

"Bittle Ronniekins!"

"What's the platform?" Mrs. Weasley asked Ginny kindly and the little red haired girl scrunched her nose up cutely.

"Platform nine and three quarters, mum!" she giggled, waving a shy hello to the Potter twins. They both waved back.

"Hello, Molly." James greeted the woman by pressing a kiss onto her hand.

"Hello James dear," she muttered, wiping a rather noticeable smudge on Ron's nose.

"Now, walk briskly to the wall and you'll pass straight through!" James instructed, before giving Charlie a large push through the barrier. He started sniggered at his anguished cries and pushed Harry through too, before stepping behind the pair.

They'd both stopped in awe at the sight in front of them.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead read _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock_. Harry looked behind them and saw a wrought-iron archway where the wall had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _on it. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the bustling crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between the mass of legs. Owls hooted to each other in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. Harry was grateful his and Charlie's had feather-light charms on them.

"Good bye, boys." James leant down and wrapped his arms around them both, trying not to show the agony he was feeling. Lily should be here with him. "H-have fun," His voice cracked. "And send me some toilet seats, and definitely blow up Snape's chambers."

"We'll write you every day, don't worry dad." Charlie murmured.

"Don't be too lonely, and don't forget about the cats!" Harry joked.

James laughed weakly and pushed them on their way, wiping away a stray tear. _Lily... You would be so, so proud._

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of their windows to talk to their families, some squabbling over seats. Harry pushed his trolley off down the platform in the search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again!"

"Oh, _Neville_." he heard the old woman sigh.

He passed a boy with dreadlocks, surrounded by a small crowd. "Give us a look, Lee, go on!" The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the train until he found an empty compartment near the back of the train. He put Hedwig, his snowy owl, inside first and then began to levitate his trunk into the racks. Charlie whistled lowly. "Merlin, Harry!"

Harry smirked at him cockily. "I'm good, aren't I?"

Charlie gave him a look that demanded he lift Charlie's into the racks and he did, before doing a cushioning charm on the seats so that he could lie down.

"Just how much did you learn?" Charlie demanded to know, relaxing into the now comfy seats with a happy sigh. Harry tapped the side of his nose and twisted around until he was comfortable.

The train let out a loud whistle and the people still straggling outside got onto the train; it soon set off and Harry could see little Ginny Weasley, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed; then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed by the window. He felt a great leap of excitement well in his stomach. He didn't know where he was headed to, but it was something great.

The door to the compartment slid open and the youngest Weasley walked in. "Alright Charlie?" he said as a way of greeting and Harry felt a brief stab of jealously hit him **hard**.

The other two left Harry out of their conversation and he watched as the scenery sped by. They were out of London now.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't bought any sweets in Diagon Alley, leapt out of his sweet and handed thirteen sickles and seventeen knuts to the woman. "Could I have lots of Bertie Botts, Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes and... oh, you have Muggle sweets too?" Harry grinned in delight. They didn't have any Mars Bars, but they had some Galaxy bars. "A little bit of everything else, please?"

The woman packed everything into a large bag and gave him a wink. "Thrown in some extra, for being a good customer."

Harry grinned his thanks and opened a chocolate frog, biting off the head before it could leap away. He massacred the animated frog while reading his card.

_Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts._

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

He turned over the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long crooked nose and flowing silver hair, beard and moustache. His eyes flashed and he saw a younger Dumbledore with auburn hair and hardly any wrinkles. He shook his head; what was that?

"Who'd you get, Harry?" Charlie looked at him expectantly.

"Dumbledore again," he sighed, throwing the card on the floor. "That's what? The thirteenth one."

He opened the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and popped a green one into his mouth. Hm. Grass.

The countryside that was now flying past the window was becoming wilder; the neat fields had gone. They were replaced by gnarled trees and twisting rivers.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy from earlier came in, tear tracks visible on his face. "I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen a toad at all?" When they shook their heads, he wailed. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Well maybe you should stop bothering us - " Ron began harshly, but a cold look from Harry silenced him.

"What's his name?" Harry asked kindly, removing his wand from his sleeve.

"Trevor!" The boy sobbed, his face red and wet from crying.

"Calm down," Harry soothed. "I'll try to find him. _Accio Trevor_!"

Harry blinked as his hands became full of a writhing, fat toad and he handed the startled thing back to the (much happier) boy. "Oh, thank you! I'm Neville Longbottom!"

Harry held out his hand to shake. "I'm Harold Potter; it's very nice to meet you, Neville."

Neville blushed and took Harry's hand in his own; forget the fanboy that was screaming inside of him, his Pureblood manners told him to be polite and collected. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I would have never found him without your help."

Neville left the compartment and Harry wiped his grimy hands on the seats.

"Don't know why he's so bothered." said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could! Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

Harry gave him a disdainful sneer and sat down. Harry was just about to change into his robes when the compartment door slid open again. There was Neville Longbottom and another girl, already wearing her new Hogwarts robes. "Which one of you did the summoning charm?" she breathed excitably; there was someone in her year who was capable of doing such magic already?!

"I did," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I'm Harold Potter, who are you?"

"Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I received my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the best school for witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learnt all of our books off by heart of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger! I've been practising basic spells already and some of the ones towards the back of the book haven't worked for me, but the summoning charm is a hard spell! How did you learn it so quickly and efficiently?" She said this all very fast and Harry was left quite clueless. "I've read all about you, of course, I got a few extra books for background reading! I didn't want to come into the Wizarding world unaware. You're in _Modern Magical History _and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"I wouldn't believe all that was wrote in those, if I were you," Harry told her gently, guiding her to sit down next to him. "I just need you to know that my mother, Lily Potter, was an excellent Muggleborn witch who went to extensive lengths to save her family. She is never congratulated because of the ritual she used."

Hermione absorbed all of this with wide eyes. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I'm thinking Gryffindor, it sounds the far by best, I hear Dumbeldore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."

"I think I'll be in Ravenclaw," Harry shrugged.

"Probably Gryffindor," Charlie added and Ron went beet-red.

"Well I reckon Harry here will be in Slytherin, with the rest of those dirty bast - "

Harry pulled out his wand and shoved it under Ron's neck, his emerald eyes glowing brightly. "I wouldn't finish that statementif I were you. Just remember, mate, the Potter's have you in their debt."

Ron flushed an angry shade of red while Hermione and Neville watched in confusion. "What's wrong with Slytherin?" Hermione asked curiously, looking at Harry for the answers. He seemed the nicest out of the lot, even though Charlie was smiling warmly at her every-so-often.

"It's the house that You-Know-Who came from," Charlie told her quietly. "But the Weasley's have always had an issue with the house."

Hermione nodded to herself and gave Harry a tiny smile. "You may want to get changed into your uniform and robes soon, we're nearing Hogwarts."

With those parting words Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom left the compartment, leaving Harry and Charlie with a flushed menace.

Harry quickly changed, just in time for the compartment door to slide open _again_. This time, there was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's - Draco Malfoy.

"Hello again, Mr. Malfoy." Harry grinned cheekily at the other boy. Draco sniffed in reply.

"Are you coming to sit with us, Harry?"

Harry peered out of the window; it was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky. Harry shook his head. "I won't, but we'll meet up somewhere to see if we have any lessons together..." Harry gestured to his owl. "Go up to the Owlery and send me a letter using Hedwig, if you want."

Draco seemed hurt by the rejection, but he perked up as Harry went on. "Of course, Harry - may I call you Harry?"

Harry nodded. A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train as it will be taken to the school separately."

"Oh!" Harry turned around and gave Charlie a kiss on his cheek. "I'll go with you then, bye Charlie!"

Harry got his wand and left with Draco in tow to wait in the corridor. Harry's stomach leapt with nerves and his already-pale skin paled further. The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry had to grab onto Draco's hand so not to lose him.

The boys shivered in the cold night air. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Harry heard a loud, booming voice: "Firs'-years! Firs'-years! C'mon, follow me! Any more firs'-years? Mind yer step now! Firs'-years, follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so very dark on either side of the boys and Harry felt a tiny stab of fear in his stomach; the dark was not his friend.

His mum appeared at the side of him and gave him a comforting smile, but her concerned eyes sought out her other son. It was torture not being able to speak to her family, only having Harry. It just wasn't fair.

Nobody spoke much. Neville was sniffling. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec'," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend 'ere."

There was a collective, "Wow!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the night sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called and the two boys, Harry and Draco, immediately nabbed one of the boats near to the front. Two rather rotund boys got in the boat with them and they grunted occasionally; Harry didn't bother to ask for their names. They were Crabbe's and Goyle's, he was certain.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

The little fleet of boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake. The ripples made were smooth, as if the water itself was smooth like glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle ahead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats met the cliff; they all bent their heads as the boats carried them on through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried underneath a dark tunnel which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of under-ground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles. From there, they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's bright lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadows to the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. "Everyone here?"

Hagrid rose a meaty fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry knew this was the Minnie from his fathers tales.

Lily giggled to the side of him, floating just above the woman's head and pulling funny faces. "God, Professor McGonagall! How I've missed her!"

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said, his chest puffed in pride.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big! The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones in the Castle, the ceiling was too high for Harry to properly see and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led up to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Draco could hear the drone of hundreds of students and whispered to Harry about it. "I wonder what we'll have to do to get sorted?"

Harry hummed in reply as Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather close to each other than they would have usually done, peering about at their surroundings in nerves and awe. "Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting ceremony is very important because, while you're here, your house will become something akin to family away from home. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has it's own noble history - "

"Except Slytherin," Ron sniggered. Harry's eyebrow noticeably twitched.

"Peter Pettigrew helped kill my mother and he was from Gryffindor, Ron." Charlie snapped, his brown eyes flashing.

McGonagall coughed loudly and gave the first years a disdainful look. "And _each _has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs are your houses triumphs and you will earn house points. Rule-breaking will reflect badly within your house and lose you points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope that each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the whole school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can." Her eyes lingered a moment on Neville's cloak which was fastened beneath his left ear and the dirt smudged into Ron's face. Harry carded his fingers through his hair and he attempted to smooth it out as best as he could. Soon, it was back to an elegant quiff that covered his scar very well.

"I shall return when we are ready for you." she murmured. "Please wait quietly."

The moment she left, the room burst into noise. "How do you think we'll get sorted?" Harry asked Draco quietly.

"They place a hat on your head that's said to be enchanted by the Founders themselves," Draco gushed, smiling. "I hope we get into the same house." Draco started to... Pout. A Malfoy... Pouted.

Something happened behind him that made him jump a foot in the air - some students started screaming.

"What's that?" Draco asked.

Harry turned to stare as around twenty ghosts streamed through the wall behind them; Lily began to wave at Nearly Headless Nick, who gave her a solemn look. Pearly white and near transparent, they floated above the first-years heads, chatting. Harry assumed that once you were dead, all you could do was talk. He didn't want to die, ever.

"Forgive and forget!" One small but fat monk was saying. "I say, we ought to give him another chance!"

"My dear Friar, haven't we all given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives every ghost a bad name, you know, and he's not even a real ghost! I say - what are you doing here?"

A ghost wearing the strangest of clothing addressed the new students, but nobody replied.

"New students!" The Fat Friar beamed down at them. "About to be sorted, I assume?"

Harry nodded. "I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. Lily gave Harry one last hug and he pecked her cheek quickly, before she sped off to ask questions about what her son was. Even now, she was clueless.

"Form a line and follow me."


	4. The Sorting Hat

Harry found Charlie and quickly grabbed his hand for comfort. Charlie gave him a tiny grimace and they got into the line, next to Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. They were behind a sandy haired boy and a black boy, who gave them an anxious frown.

Feeling slightly more confident now that he had his brother by his side, they walked out of the chamber, back across the spacious hall and into the Great Hall. Harry never thought the Great Hall would be _this _beautiful and his breath got caught in his throat. There were four, darkly polished tables filled with empty platters and golden goblets, students lining the sides in the table. Some were smirking, some were smiling comfortingly while others weren't bothered, chatting to their friends. Above their heads floated thousands upon thousands of lit candles, lighting the room with a warm aura that gave the room more life. The shadows danced teasingly, leading up to the roof - Harry did a double-take. Above them was the night sky, the moon winking down high in the sky, the stars twinkling brightly above these new faces.

At the end of the room, there was another large table with throne-like chairs. His future teachers were staring back at him, already sizing up the good students from the bad ones - Harry rather hoped he and Charlie were good pupils, because at least they weren't Ron Weasley!

Professor McGonagall led the first-years up the gangway to the teachers table before stopping, so the whole school could see them. The teachers were behind them and Harry could already sense a dark glare on his back - Professor Snape? He glanced back and saw that yes, there were burning black coals glaring bloody murder into his back. He gave the man a cheerful smile and a jaunty wave.

Harry hoped this interaction wasn't noticed, but _damn _he could see why Dad detested him so much. Already, he was a tyrant.

The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone a misty silver but there was one corporeal figure standing in the middle of the room, looking at her two little boys in pride. She blew Harry a kiss before sitting down on the floor, crossing her legs in front of her.

Hermione leaned in to him; "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_." Harry nodded his head obediently; she seemed like the type that would cram every piece of knowledge down your throat.

Harry zoned into Professor McGonagall when she silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she placed a pointed wizard's hat that was patched, frayed and extremely dirty - Harry hoped he didn't get lice.

Everyone seemed to be staring at the hat, so he did too. For a few moments, there was nothing but then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim stretched and ripped, open like a mouth. Something strange was going to happen.

_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. The tip of the hat pointed down and seemed to bow at every table before becoming quite still again.

"So we have to try on a hat?" Charlie asked Harry, whispering. Harry silently begrudge the fact that Charlie had to literally lean down to whisper in his ear. Harry squeezed his hand in acknowledgement and nodded. "Oh, that's good - Ron, the prat, kept saying we had to fight a troll!"

Harry snorted audibly before blushing a very bright shade of red as eyes turned to face him.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, now holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She unravelled the roll and read the first name. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with two blonde pigtails tied closely to her ears stumbled out of the line, put on the hat (which fell over her eyes) and sat down on the stool. There was a moments pause, before - "HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted. Harry blinked in astonishment.

The table on the right cheered loudly and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the fat monk waving merrily at her.

This process repeated, as Bones, Susan also got sorted into Hufflepuff and Boot, Terry got sorted into Ravenclaw. Brocklehurst, Mandy went to Ravenclaw, too, but Brown, Lavender was the first one to be sorted into Gryffindor. The table on the far left burst into cheers and Harry saw Fred and George catcalling at the poor girl. Bulstrode, Millicent became a Slytherin and the table on the far right seemed rather subdued as they clapped. Harry assumed it was the typical Pureblood reaction and self-consciously straightened himself out to stand like a Pureblood Heir. He didn't know what house he'd be in, but if it was Slytherin, he didn't want to seem like his Half-blood self.

He poked Charlie and rolled his shoulders back until Charlie copied Harry's stance. Harry finally decided to zone out until - "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled eagerly and calmly walked over to the hat, jamming it onto her frizzy hair. The hat seemed torn for her, before it opened its brim wide and roared "RAVENCLAW!"

Harry clapped along with the Ravenclaw table and smiled warmly at his (hopefully) new friend. She grinned back, her eyes flickering to Charlie, before she bounced over to the table.

Harry zoned out again until Neville's name was called. The boy trembled but walked forward, carefully placing the hat onto his head. "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville seemed ready to burst into tears until Charlie shifted a little - then he seemed to calm down and stand much straighter. Harry gave him a curious look; _what was that?_

Harry zoned out again, pushing the event to one side. Perhaps it was a strange coincidence.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco swaggered forward and the hat had barely touched his head before the hat roared "SLYTHERIN!"

There weren't many people left now and as Professor McGonagall went through the names ("Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" "Patil" and then another "Patil") there was, finally, "Potter, Charles!"

There was a sudden outbreak of whispers that made Harry grit his teeth. "_Potter, did she say?_" "_Related to __**the **__Harry Potter?_" "_His twin, isn't it?_"

Charlie smiled charmingly, albeit quite mockingly, too, before dropping the hat onto his head and leaving it to slide over his eyes.

* * *

"_Difficult... There's a thirst, here, to show that you are better than your brother, but you want to protect him from any who wish to harm him - good loyalty, plenty of loyalty... But only to your family, hmmm? Oh, yes, plenty of courage but you aren't reckless, no. You're very intelligent, oh yes... But where to put you? Gryffindor wouldn't be accepting of your lack of heart-on-sleeve... You would flourish in Slytherin, boy._"

Charlie listened to the hats words carefully before mentally shrugging. "Slytherin, then."

"SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

Severus Snape was having a terrible day and had he chose that moment to take a drink, the table would have been covered in Pumpkin juice. A Potter, in his house?

* * *

Charlie smiled weakly at Harry before walking over to the Slytherin table, his tie and badge changing from their blank design into emerald and silver.

"Potter, Harold!" Was it Charlie, or did McGonagall sound shocked?

Harry stepped forward, face blank. He placed the hat onto his head.

"_Another Potter! They haven't had twins in a while, you know. I know._" The hat seemed to laugh at itself. "_Plenty of ambition but what do you want to be? Very strong, very intelligent... There is only one place for you, boy. _SLYTHERIN!"

Harry removed the hat from his head and placed it on the chair, before giving the very pale Snape a wink. He _pranced_ over to his brother and slid next to him, clutching his hand under the table.

Was it just Harry, or the Slytherin's not like him much? He gave them all a cocky little wave and flicked his hair to cover his scar, before sharing a smug smile with Draco.

The Great Hall was in utter silence. The Boy-Who-Lived... in _Slytherin?_

* * *

Lily burst into slightly hysteric giggles - Potters? In _Slytherin? _It was obviously the Black in them or something... Yeah, that must be it. It's fine.

She mentally slapped herself and got up from the floor, Nearly Headless Nick watching her in curiosity. Harry held his hand out to the other side of hand and nonchalantly squeezed, but really he was holding Lily's hand in his own.

The Bloody Baron watched in dark amusement. A Necromancer from the Potter blood. Ah, how times were strange!

* * *

Harry could see the High Table properly now; at the end nearest to him sat Hagrid, a half-giant with an equally as large beard. In the centre of the High Table, sat in a red velvet and gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognised him at once from the cards from his chocolate frogs. Dumbeldore's silver hair shone brightly, just like the ghosts.

Harry spotted another man, sat next to Professor Snape. He had a peculiar face and wore a large purple turban, wrapped securely around his head.

He switched back to the sorting - now there were only three people left to be sorted. Turpin, Lisa became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ronald Weasley's turn. Harry silently prayed to Merlin and Morgana that he would _not _join his house - it was highly unlikely he would, but goodness... _No._

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry let out a sharp sigh of relief that sent Charlie into giggles.

"Well done, Ron, excellent!" Harry could hear the nasal tone of Percy Weasley and grimaced.

Zabini, Blaise went into Slytherin and sat on Harry's free side, the caramel skinned boy not looking at anyone as he sat down. Harry nudged him and gave him a pompous look, that turned into a wide, toothy grin. "Hi; I'm Harry Potter and this is my twin, Charlie."

Blaise gave him a tiny smile and his indigo eyes seemed to brighten up at the interaction. "Blaise Zabini, nice to meet you," he whispered back. "When do you think we'll eat?" As he finished speaking, Charlie's stomach growled. Loudly. Harry laughed quietly when the red-haired boy flushed, apologising to the abashed Draco.

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet, beaming at the students. He opened his arms wide, as if nothing more could have pleased him than fresh new faces staring up at him. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And - here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down to loud applause and cheers, but Harry personally felt he had a few screws loose. Oh look, there they were - in his beard. Hm.

"Barmy... Absolutely barmy." Draco sniggered, scooping a generous amount of mashed potato on his plate.

"Barmy... But he's so very strong," Charlie whispered fervently, clutching his chest. He rubbed it before shaking his whole body out. "Have some vegetables, Harry - you're too small as it is."

Harry flushed brightly as Draco began to laugh - even Blaise began to chuckle. He piled his vegetables onto his plate before taking a piece of chicken breast and smothering it in gravy. He chopped his food into tiny, delicate bites and took his time chewing. The cacophony of noise in the Great Hall became muted as it moved over to the Slytherin corner.

"So, Blaise..." Draco smiled wickedly. "How's your new stepfather?"

Charlie eyed the dark boy curiously before cutting in smoothly, "How are the investigations, Draco? I do hope that nothing_ un_toward has been found."

Draco flushed slightly - his cheeks pinkened and his nose scrunched up the tiniest bit. It was a weakness Harry would exploit. Blaise gave Charlie a thankful look before replying carefully. "He's fine, as of yet. Why?" His voice was deep like chocolate.

Words were war in Slytherin, Harry deduced. Purity, words and lineage.

The Bloody Baron decided to interrupt their conversation and smoothly slide next to Draco, who got increasingly flustered. "Hello," the Baron nodded at Harry_ (in particular? Harry wondered why)._ "Welcome to the Noble house of Slytherin."

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of food faded from the plates, leaving them gleaming as before. A moment later, puddings appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour and colour, apple pies, strawberries laden in cream, treacle tarts, jam doughnuts and there was even a massive triple chocolate cake on a cake stand!

Harry immediately chose the chocolate cake and doubled it with vanilla ice cream in raspberry sauce, while Charlie went for the white chocolate cake on the opposing stand and chocolate ice cream, covering it in caramel sauce. Draco absently noted that they even ate the same - the same posture, shoulders pushed back, taking small amounts onto their utensil before raising it to their mouths. They were not Pureblood but carried themselves in such a way it was overlooked.

Draco decided he'd turn the talk to families - "I'm a Pureblood from both the Malfoy and Black line," he told them proudly. "My mother is from the Black's."

Harry and Charlie shared a look. "We're half and half - "

"But our father, James, was born from - "

"Dorea Black and Charles Potter, and as it's the - "

"Potter and Black lineage, our mothers background is typically - "

"Overlooked, especially since the Potter and Black house - "

"Stem so far back in history." Charlie finished, eliciting some stares from the Second and Third years. Charlie didn't care; his blood was probably purer than theirs, because of the inbreeding throughout Pureblood history. The Potters had ancestry in Spain, France, Germany and America, while families like the Bulstrodes were 'mutts' due to inbreeding from staying solely in England.

"I'm a Pureblood," Blaise murmured. "With Gypsy blood."

Gypsies were very rare. "How far back do you stem?" Harry asked politely, sipping some Pumpkin juice.

"Quite far - my mother dislikes talking about her heritage with me. She's proud of it but she wants me to know when I turn thirteen."

Harry looked up to the table, feeling eyes on him. He met the eyes of the man in the turban evenly, until he felt a burning pain in his scar that shot across his forehead. "Bugger," he spat, rubbing it. He took his eyes away from Professor Quirrell and stopped rubbing, blood clinging to his fingers.

"What is it?" Charlie whispered furiously, removing a silk handkerchief from his robe pocket and folding it into a neat little square. He pulled Harry's hair back and pressed it against the agitated skin.

The pain had gone, but he was still bleeding. "I don't know - I just looked at Quirrell and then this happened."

Charlie frowned in worry. "I'll have to get some books out of the library on healing - he's going to be teaching us and if this happens again, we'll need a quick fix. I think I've stemmed the blood flow..."

Draco watched the proceedings _very _carefully. Charlie was acting more like the Firstborn, rather than the Second Draco knew he was. Curious.

At last, the puddings disappeared and Charlie's soiled cloth was in his pocket. Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again and the Hall fell silent. "Ahem - just a few more words now that we are fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils - and a few of our older students would do to remember it as well." His twinkling eyes looked over at Fred and George who puffed up in pride.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term and anyone interested in playing for their house should see Madam Hooch. And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry didn't laugh; he was infuriated. Why would he give such a warning when he knew people would deliberately disobey the rule? What did he have that would cause a very painful death?

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" the old man cried. McGonagalls' smile became very forced.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, rising high above the tables and twisting itself into snake-like words. "Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "And off we go!"

The school bellowed:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something, please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot!_

Everybody finished the songs at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they'd finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. Harry truly didn't know if he were serious or not. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first-years followed behind their upper classmates dutifully, down a flight of stairs, twisting to the right, left, down, up, left again, another left in silence. They finally reached an inconspicuous piece of wall that Harry only realised was different because of the torches. The torches had been evenly placed out until now, where there were two spaced three feet apart from each other. This was the entrance? It was easily overlooked.

Draco stuck close to the Potters - he knew of his Godfathers dislike of them and also knew the _pair _had been antagonising him and honestly, he wanted front row seats.

"The password is _Toujours Pur_." the Prefect's voice demanded attention and Harry belatedly realised that was the Black family motto. That sent his thoughts to Sirius and his heart began to ache. He was already home-sick.

They all walked through the new opening and the older students got into a formation. The seventh-years were at the back of the room, while the second-years were near the front. The first-years obediently filed in front of the second-years and Harry examined the room.

The common room was dungeon-like in appearance, with sharp walls and torches lit with green flames. There was a large sitting area (that the first-years were standing in) situated in front of a cold fire that threw out no heat, only light. The sofa's were low backed, black leather with neat dark green buttons. The room was lined in bookshelves and cupboards, all dark wood but filled to the brim with items. Harry was eager to get his hands on the books, but he wondered how he'd fit all the time in for reading.

One wall was purely high windows, giving the room a green-blue tinge. Were they underneath the lake? Harry could hear the sound of swishing water that, oddly, comforted him.

The Prefects stood at the front of the room. "Our Head of House, Professor Snape, will be in shortly to tell you the rules and regulations of the Slytherin house. From our own backs, _do not antagonise him_. He is a strict man, but he is fair. We are the ostracised house and he is our defender - you will find that, due to being in the Slytherin house, you will get treated badly. He will treat us well."

With those cryptic parting words, the man himself stalked into the room with a furious stride and his robes billowing around him. Harry knew that he and Charlie were the cause, but he would bully this man.

He'd killed Lily, after all. Not directly, but he told Voldemort the prophecy and Voldemort killed his beautiful mother.

Lily floated nervously next to him, eyeing the boy with an indescribable look in her eyes. For being a revived spirit, she felt oddly sick to her stomach. Harry was a Necromancer and that was how he could see, hear, _touch _her - he didn't understand her death and brought her back the way he knew her. Beautiful, with glowing eyes and brilliant hair.

But he was still her son, so she ran her fingers through his hair and stood strong against the ball of anger that was Severus Snape.

"_Rule one_." he spat, "You do _not _speak back to me." His dark eyes were focused on her two boys and she snarled back, even though he couldn't see her. Harry stiffened under her touch. "I am _your Head of House_ and you will _treat _me as such."

"Rule two. Your house is your family; you have problems, they will protect you. Do not actively look for problems, because it _will end badly_."

Charlie couldn't believe what the man was saying. It was just a house! It was fitted to their personalities! "Sir, I don't understand!" He burst out. Snape's bad emotions were upsetting him. "Weren't we placed here so we could bond with those like _us_? Why would we be treated so cruelly? We're children!"

Harry held his hand and silenced the boy. Snape sneered at the open show of affection, but didn't tell the lad off for his question. He was noticeably distressed. "You are in Slytherin, a house with a bad reputation. You, as an eleven year old, are now worse than _scum _in many peoples' opinions. Charles _Potter_, isn't it? Control your emotions, please."

Severus quickly deduced he must have empathic skills, because Draco and Millicent Bulstrode were also feeling his distress. They were shuffling and their eyes seemed misty with tears. "Not just for your sake, but those around you. I can already tell you'll be a problem."

Charlie stiffened his lip and locked his emotions out, pressing them onto Harry through their bond. Harry's eyes grew wide but he schooled his expression and stood a little shakier.

_Interesting_. "Rule three. If one of your housemates has a problem, you help sort it. Homework, you help them. But only for a price; you need to learn how the real world works."

"Rule four. _Celebrities will not receive differed treatment_." There was silence at this one, until the room as a whole began to laugh.

"The Boy-Who-Lived, in Slytherin!" someone scoffed.

"Yes, let's all mock the boy whose mother **died**." Charlie spat loudly and silence fell in the room again.

Lily was infuriated and Harry could tell from the way she prowled the room, passing through Snape's body repeatedly.

_Lily?_ he whispered mentally before visibly shuddering. "Regardless of how they became a celebrity, you must not ask questions. Your secrets are your secrets." he finished lamely. "Off to bed. Boys, to the left stair well. First-years at the bottom. Girls, to the right. Goodnight."

He span on his heel and left, leaving behind a visibly perturbed Boy-Who-Lived and loud whispers. Charlie grabbed Harry's hand and _dragged _him down the stairs, because Harry had completely frozen from his outburst - or maybe it was something else? When his legs gave out, Charlie cursed loudly.

Charlie eyed Blaise Zabini, who was standing at the stop of the stairwell. "Could you give me a hand?"

The boy nodded and strode down the stairs, picking up the small Harry in his arms. "Which way?" His voice was gruff.

"Down..." Charlie trailed off, taking the stairs two at a time.

At the very, _very _bottom of the stairwell there was a large mahogany door with a gold plate in the centre. _First-years_ was wrote in elegant cursive and Charlie slammed the door open, telling Blaise to put Harry on the bed nearest the bathroom and rearranging the trunks quickly. Crabbe and Goyle were closest the door, Draco on the bed closest to the window, while Blaise and Charlie surrounded Harry. Theodore Nott was opposite Draco's bed.

"Has this happened before?" Blaise asked quietly. Charlie shook his head and entered the bathroom; Blaise took this time to fold Harry out before murmuring to him quietly, "I will ask my aunt for some books on controlling this, Harry."

Harry's frightened eyes met his own. "You are a Necromancer."

That probably wasn't the right thing to say, Blaise mused, as those little jewels rolled back in the boys head and he fainted. "Charlie!" Blaise called. "Go ask someone for Professor Snape! He's fainted!"

Blaise quickly set Harry out in the recovery position while a wild-eyed Charlie rushed up the stairs.

* * *

Snape sunk heavily into his leather armchair. "Lily?" he whispered into the fire, removing his outer robe and rolling his sleeves up. "What was that?"

A frantic knock on his door made him shoot up and open his door. There was a (nearly) crying Charles Potter standing on his doorstep. "What is wrong, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked tiredly.

"Harry - Harry fainted and he's panicking!" Charlie stammered out. Snape groaned; couldn't he have a peaceful night? He grabbed a calming draught and followed the flustered boy down the stairs. The rest of the Slytherins' were watching in confusion, while Draco Malfoy was missing.

He opened to find the beds had been re-arranged with Blaise and Draco hovering over the boys body. They were acting if the bloody boy had died!

"_Rennervate_," Snape waved his wand over the boy before tipping a tiny amount of calming draught down the boys throat. He reflexively swallowed and became limp on the bed; the two boys had dropped his hands like fire the moment Snape walked in. "What is the problem, Mr. Potter?"

Charlie looked very ashamed, and spoke before Harry could. "I - I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I don't know where it came from." Snape sighed.

"It is fine, Mr. Potter. I wasn't expecting the house as a majority to react as they did. You handled it badly, however. Do not allow your emotions to rule you. You bottle it up and reply smoothly - words said in anger will be forgotten, as your anger will be remembered. Your words should be remembered, not your emotions."

Charlie nodded and filed the quote away for later - he did let his emotions rule him occasionally and Harry's status as a celebrity, especially as they had lost their mother that night, was something that angered him when mentioned mockingly.

"I will have to report this incident to your father, so that he can get you proper care for dealing with loss." Snape continued and Charlie felt sick to his stomach. "It is obvious that you haven't coped well with her loss."

"Could we not tell dad?" Charlie asked quietly, watching Harry with concerned eyes. "Honestly, dad hasn't moved past it, either. He had two baby boys to look after and a destroyed house and his friend had betrayed him and his wife had died - "

Snape halted his rant by holding one hand up. "Then I am going to request that the _pair _of you come and see me one day in the week, in the evening time. I can only assume you've been told nothing but bad things about me?"

At Charlie's guilty nod, he sighed and cursed James Potter to Hell and back. "Then we will talk through these issues on an evening of your choice."

"Tuesday!" Harry said quickly.

Snape nodded his head slowly. "Tuesday is fine for me... Charles?"

Charlie pursed his lips before sighing. "This gives me less chance to read," he laughed. "But Tuesday is fine."

"Good. Now, boys, get to bed. You will have an early morning tomorrow; I expect for you to wake up no later than seven forty five for a uniform and room inspection."

The four boys nodded in unison and Snape left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The four all changed quickly, with Draco getting changed in the bathroom. Blaise eyed a large scar on Charlie's back - it extended out like intricate webbing, with a large, red throbbing centre. "What's that?" he asked carefully.

"Oh, this? I fell off my broom once, into tonnes of trees..." Charlie replied quietly. "Harry, could you put some salve on it?"

Harry did so quickly, wrapping his back in gauze. He could remember as clear as day how that happened. They were playing Quidditch at the Weasley's and, Ron being Ron, took his hand and slammed a Beater's ball into Charlie. This wouldn't have been quite so bad, had he not put a _lot _of force behind it. Charlie was flung away and, as Harry frantically searched for him and found him only by the blood dripping to the floor, Ron laughed before he went to get their father.

Harry detested him since - sure, it was petty but that panic and pain that had shot through Harry's body... It made him _angry_.

* * *

_Dear father and mother,_

_I have been sorted into Slytherin, although there is no surprise there! What is surprising is __**who else **__got sorted into Slytherin. The Potter twins! The Boy-Who-Lived himself! I do hope you are as surprised as me._

_We, myself and Harold, maintain a careful but kind disposition around each other - his brother had the nerve to ask how the investigation was going! You can tell who was raised properly._

_Interesting revelations tonight. We got to our common room and Severus said that celebrities would not be treated differently. The room, of course, burst into laughter which both the Boy Wonder and his Sidekick found rude, but the Sidekick snapped back, "It's not like anyone died that night!" or something similar. You should have seen Severus' face! He looked like someone had trod on his grave and forced a lemon down his throat!_

_There's not much else to say, but I think the Sidekick is an empath. He got upset at one of the rules and I found myself getting __**misty **__eyed! You know me, father, I would never get upset over something so trivial! I think he is a __**very **__strong empath but I'm not too concerned. It's the Boy Wonder we're interested in, right?_

_Your loving son,_

_Draco Malfoy_


	5. The Defence Professor

When Harry woke, he remembered his dream. It was strange - his mother and father were talking, but then something purple had began to choke him. Charlie was laughing, his mother was laughing... His father was looking at him in disgust. "_You should have never been born, you freak._" The Charlie was crying and screaming with red eyes staring from a distance, lovingly... And then he just woke up. No dramatic start up, panting... His eyes just opened.

He sat up, pushed his covers down, changed, brushed his teeth and hair and he was still uncomfortably numb from his dream. He packed his bag and swung it over his shoulder. It was his first day of lessons today and so began his spiral into bookworm; he leapt up the stairs to the Slytherin common room and checked the time. Seven o'clock in the morning; this left him enough time to search the bookshelves to no avail. No books he wanted. Quite a few were, amusingly, about the Dark Lord and Pureblood politics, but there were none on Necromancy. Was it really so obscure?

Charlie yawned widely and gave Harry a small hug. "G'morning, Harry..."

"Good morning, Charlie." Harry laughed before taking a seat on the sofas.

* * *

"_Did you see him?_"

"_Did you see the scar?_"

"_What does he look like?_"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left the Slytherin dormitory to the Great Hall. It made him feel itchy. "Potters, here are your timetables." Snape gave the two boys the sheets of parchment and Harry quickly took out his pot of red ink and quill to compare lessons with Hermione.

First, he had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. Then, he had double Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell. _Then_, he had double Potions with Professor Snape, after lunch. Then it was all free.

"I'm already dreading it," Charlie confessed in hushed whispers. "Do you keep getting whispered about? I keep hearing whispers about me; I can't handle it! How do you handle it?"

"Yes, ignore them and plot their demise in your head."

Charlie nodded knowledgeably, like Harry had just given him the meaning of life. "Of course, of course..."

"We better hurry to Transfiguration," Harry smiled happily at him. "What floor is it on?"

Charlie shrugged and the pair shot out the Great Hall, passing a confused Draco and Blaise. "I wonder what we'll be learning?"

"I think we'll be learning how to change a goblet into a rat!" Harry began and Charlie burst into giggles.

"I think we'll be learning how to change a strand of hair into underwear," Charlie added, winking.

"I think I'll turn you into a dog." Harry told him bluntly. "A cute little Jack Russell, fat with short legs."

Charlie laughed loudly. "I think I'll turn you into a Ragdoll cat, so that when you go limp in my arms I can tickle you to death."

They reached the Transfiguration room with ten minutes to spare, so Harry took out a book on the subject. He didn't want to be caught unaware, especially if the woman started to fire questions at them.

* * *

Professor McGonagall hadn't fired questions at them; instead, she gave them the basic overview of Transfiguration before asking them (_asking! _Harry mused, astonished) politely to transfigure a matchstick into a needle.

This, he quickly realised, was a test. Had they listened to what she said? _Yes, miss_. He waved his wand slowly, _willing _the matchstick to change.

The matchstick refused to change.

Harry continued and he exclaimed in joy as it _finally _changed. Transfiguration was changing something into something else and it didn't mean casting an illusion. It meant encouraging the thing to change, right down to the atoms. A hard concept, but Charlie appeared to understand it, too.

Charlie gave Harry a jaw-splitting grin when his needle was grudgingly given five points, and he smiled wider when he received another five. "We're awesome," he mouthed and Harry nodded back.

"As expected, sons of James Potter." McGonagall gave them a small, private smile. "He was excellent at Transfiguration in his youth, as well."

"Was he?" Harry asked politely. "He never speaks of his time at Hogwarts, really, mostly just the _Marauder _days."

Charlie nodded along with Harry's statement, because his brother always seemed to sound sarcastic or degrading when he spoke. "Mostly about his and Sirius' adventures; he never really mentions Remus, he gets quite upset with himself..."

McGonagall's beady eyes widened slightly before the expression was wiped from her face. "Would you..." She licked her suddenly dry lips; why did she feel so odd about inviting these two boys to her quarters? It was probably because she refused to contact James after Lily died... "I could tell you stories about James and Lily, if you want..." she trailed off, snapping out harshly, "Ron Weasley! Focus!" she lowered her voice again, addressing these two Slytherins'. "Would you like to talk, over tea and biscuits?"

"That'd be wonderful, ma'am. Dad never talks about mum," Charlie confessed, shrugging his shoulders. "Thank you for the invitation."

Her heart swelled a little for these two sad little boys and she nodded, moving on. Her throat had constricted and she struggled to swallow the lump - if only Lily was here!

* * *

Professor Quirrell was a very good teacher; he was confident, smart and everything a teacher should be. Harry just couldn't take the turban seriously, or the overwhelming scent of garlic that filled the room and made him a little woozy. His scar, after the first episode, had reacted when the man stared him _straight _in the face, but as far as being in the same room as him? It pulsed lightly, almost soothingly.

"Today, as your first lesson, we shall be doing _practical _work. From then on, we will do theoretical work as well as practical. While it isn't wise to let young witches and wizards do spells without proper training..." He winked at the class with a large smirk on his face. "I don't suppose it will hurt."

"The first spell we are learning is _Expelliarmus_ and you **will **be quizzed on this spell the next lesson you have me. Spells are not things you learn once and memorise - they need to be revised and revised until it is _instinct_, you **live **and **breathe **the spell."

Harry removed his Yew wand and placed it onto the table, the white washed wood carefully polished and pristine. It was a very intricate design on the wood - the handle was melded to Harry's hands _(which he found odd, but Mr. Ollivander did say the wand chose the wizard)_ with a flat bottom. It had a small blossom carved into the wood that his mum paled at when she saw it. The rest of the wood was straight and narrow, with a swirled design that ran down the length until it reached the tip. Harry likened it to a flower, with strong roots that protected the blossom.

"Ah, our Mr. Potter has the right idea!" Professor Quirrell gave the boy an appraising look. "Would you like to watch and see the spell, then practice it on me?"

Harry flushed a bright shade of crimson and shook his head, no. What if he made a fool out of himself? Admittedly, he _had _done this spell before and had it down to a T, but what if it didn't work?

"Don't be like that, boy, come up here!" Professor Quirrell smiled warmly and Harry felt his feet obey, neatly picking up his wand and holding the tip to floor. "Now, watch me - I'm going to disarm you first, all right?" Harry nodded and watched the Professor's hand carefully, standing seven foot away.

The man murmured, "_Expelliarmus_!" before jet of red light left his wand. Harry held onto his wand as tightly as he could, but it flung out of his hands and into Quirrell's.

"Is there any way to stop your wand from leaving your hand?" Harry asked curiously; it was truly something that had plagued him for a _long _time. He hoped there was.

Quirrell frowned at Harry's wand in his hand. It was _so _similar to his own wand, but the core - the core showed it wasn't his. Lost in his musing, he nearly missed the question but his head snapped up. "I think... I think you have to be strong with your wand." he admitted - Voldemort didn't know. "You have to be magically strong to resist it, you have to be expecting it..."

Harry pursed his lips - he would find a way to stop his wand from leaving his hand. His wand was his and his alone. Quirrell held out Harry's wand and Harry took it gratefully, before turning on his foot. "Do you remember how I moved my hand, Harry?" Quirrell coaxed and Harry nodded firmly.

"_Expelliarmus_!" he whispered furiously, twisting and turning his wand before shooting a bolt of red light at Quirrell's wand. He _willed _it to shoot into his own hand and found no resistance - the short wand flung into his grip and Harry grinned victoriously, proudly.

"Ten points to Slytherin!" Quirrell beamed, clapping his hands together. "Never before have I seen such a strong attempt at the Disarming Charm!"

Harry beamed too, his emerald eyes brightening at the praise. "Thank you, sir!" Harry chirped, handing the man his wand back and returning to his seat.

"Alright then... I want you all to pair up and practice the spell on each other. If you need help, just ask." Quirrell sat on his desk, crossing his legs and staring out at the class. They shuffled around nervously, but the Gryffindor's seemed almost... tempted to turn it into a brawl.

"Congratulations, Harry," Lily spoke proudly. "You were brilliant."

Harry gave her a stiff smile in reply. Lily recoiled as if physically struck - what was wrong? Why was he being so dismissive of her? What had she done...?

Quirrell's eyes never left Harry. Who had he smiled at? Voldemort stirred and took over Quirrell's body fully, before his eyes saw the glowing outline of the deceased Lily Potter. His eyes snapped open and he immediately strode over to the boy. "Harry... May I have a word with you in my office?"

Harry nodded stiffly and he pushed his chair back, leaving Charlie staring after him sadly.

* * *

"How long have you seen your deceased mother for, Potter?" Voldemort asked harshly, leaning against the far wall in his office.

Harry stiffened and his emerald eyes began to water. His lip trembled and Voldemort silently cussed; _this _was the boy who defeated him? "Since - Since I was one, sir." Voldemort was pleased to note that no tears actually fell.

"One? Do you jest, boy? Necromancy is a _hard _skill to learn and for you to say that you conjured her apparition after she died, aged _one _is preposterous!" Did the boy _really _have the nerve to lie to **him**?

"It's true," Lily injected nervously, and Voldemort squinted coldly at her. "After I was killed... It was like I woke up and Harry was staring back at me, smiling how I'd left him."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed in thought. "I will have to do more research into this, but _Harry_, you will come to me for lessons on controlling **this**. I have no doubt the word has been spread about your abilities - soon you will have people you do not know begging you for help. You cannot help them all, boy, so don't try."

Harry's expression cleared and he nodded solemnly. "Thank you, sir."

"Also... Again, well done on the Disarming Charm," Voldemort gave the compliment off-handedly - Quirrell had been holding onto his wand with all his might, but still it was flung from his hand like a person throwing a ball. "I was trying my hardest not to give the wand to you, but you got it any way. Now, come, let's return to the lesson - I dread to think what the Gryffindor's have done in my absence."

Harry started giggling and Voldemort was struck by how _beautiful _the sound was. He felt disgusted in himself! Squealing over this little boys laugh... But by Merlin it was so innocent and childish. It was something he hadn't heard before. "I have no doubt that Ron Weasley has probably sent the room on fire!"

Voldemort allowed a tiny smile before launching himself off the wall. "Go on, Potter. Wait in the office while I talk to your mother." Harry agreed, walking into the man's office and wiping his eyes.

Lily's eyes widened in shock when she realised just _who _this was - but there was something dark swirling in the corner of the room and she was drawn to it. "Good bye, little Harry, I do so love you..."

"It isn't your time yet, Lily Potter," Voldemort spat cruelly, the only salvation for the woman disappearing. "How did you defeat me?"

Her blank eyes met his. "I used the Black family tomes and many, many hours of research to find the perfect ritual. I ripped your soul from your body the moment you killed me and anchored it to my little boy. I sacrificed myself to save my family, but in order for you to die... Harry would need to lose his piece of soul." She sounded worried and Voldemort cussed angrily inwardly. He couldn't kill this little boy, the one destined to defeat him, because he held Voldemort's soul and he needed it.

"How does he have the Necromancy skill?"

Her eyes flickered lightly. "He was born with it, but the trauma fully activated it. He wanted me and he got me."

"Is he powerful?"

Lily smiled warmly. "He's very strong, and Charlie is his reason. If anyone hurt Charlie... Harry would destroy them, no doubt. He told me so, when he was a little boy."

"His brother? What would he do if I destroyed him or harmed him at all?"

Lily's eyes flickered into full awareness. "He would kill you. At risk of his body failing on him, even if the world were destroyed... You hurt Charlie, you will die, Lord Voldemort."

Voldemort nodded and pursed his lips. "I truly thought as much. Charles is a weak little boy, spineless - he is envious of Harry and people are so inclined to push him out of the way for Harry, you know. Charlie may turn the knife on Harry himself."

Lily's green eyes lit up in rage. "He would do no such thing -! "

"Oh, but he would." Voldemort spoke in glee. "If the right pressing and prodding was administered, or if I slowly weaken that bond..." He cackled quietly. "Tell me about Harry's personality, Lily Potter."

"He's... Hateful. Vindictive." It pained her to admit it, but he was. "He has an unhealthy hate for Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew, but it's odd... Severus has offered help and he took it. There's something wrong with him, I'm sure. Something mental."

Voldemort frowned, eyeing the crumbled form of the beautiful boy on the floor. "What do you mean?"

"He struggles to actually show emotion. Charlie pushed some of his own pain onto Harry and he seemed to bottle it away - I worry he is pressing it down and not letting anyone see his pain or anger. There's just... Never anything there. In his expressions - sure, he's smiling, but is he really happy? I don't know any more."

Voldemort hummed in thought. "You know, miss Potter... You were not meant to die that night, but you upset me. I... apologise for your death. You were a worthy opponent."

Lily gazed at him in shock but there were hints of a smile on her lips.

"Go." Voldemort sighed, walking into his office and carrying on his conversation with the boy. "I don't think he'll have set the room on fire," Voldemort mused. "Probably started a Weasley-Malfoy fued."

Harry giggled again. "Oh goodness, I hope so. Those are the _best._" Voldemort steered him to the classroom.

Voldemort rose an eyebrow at the sight before him. Charles Potter was flushed and grinning widely, four separate wands clutched in his hand. "And _what_ happened here?" He hovered in the door way; no one seemed to have noticed him, yet.

"What did you do, Charlie?" Harry groaned. "I can't go anywhere with you!" Harry joined his brother and whispered into his ear, "I might go ask McGonagall to turn you into a Jack Russell after all."

Voldemort withheld the snort and gave the two boys a puzzled frown. Charles flushed brightly, but this time out of embarrassment. "Harry, mate, I think he can hear us..."

Harry gave Professor Quirrell a look before shaking his head. "If he can hear us, then I want him to know that he smells and his turban is ridiculous."

Voldemort willed himself not to react and cocked his head in 'confusion' although inwardly he was smirking. It was Quirrell who liked the turban and the garlic, Voldemort having nothing to do with it. He himself thought it was stupid.

"See, he can't hear us!" Harry gestured wildly to the wands. "What the hell?"

"Ron said something about you, so I took his wand," Charlie grinned happily at Harry's face, releasing the wands and grabbing the other boys hand, intertwining their fingers. "Then Draco mocked Ron, so I took his too," Harry snorted and so did Voldemort; his followers son, disarmed by a Potter! "Then it turned into a fight between Pansy and Seamus, so I disarmed them both."

Harry beamed in pride and Voldemort privately wondered who was stronger between the pair. Lily was certain Harry was stronger, but Charlie... Charlie had the power of emotions on his side. If he could press his emotions elsewhere, he was a strong empath.

"Just _what _happened here?" Voldemort hissed, watching in amusement as several faces paled. "Don't answer that, you hooligans. Just for your disobedience, I want an essay, a foot in length, about the usage of the Disarming Charm and you _must _include detail; this will determine if you can be redeemed from today or not. Oh and, Charles Potter - another twenty points to Slytherin for your usage of the Charm."

Charlie was positively glowing.

* * *

Professor Quirrell was, so far, his _favourite _teacher, Harry thought. A smile, one that Charlie had never seen before, came over his twins face and the boy panicked; it wasn't a nice smile. It was a bitter smile, his lips drawn in thin red lines.

As soon as the expression came, it left and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. "C'mon, Harry, it's lunch time," Charlie pouted cutely. "I want some f_ooo_od!"

Harry smiled wanly and the pair left for the Great Hall. "I need to go to the library, Charlie, so I'll just have something to eat then go. Stay with Blaise."

"Why can't I come with you?" Charlie asked quietly, but his question was lost on Harry. He was hearing angry mutters in his ears and he was scared.

Harry ate a tuna sandwich and left hurriedly, the mutters in his ears becoming louder now that he was alone. He blinked back frustrated tears and found comfort in books.

There was a neatly hidden book next to the books on Languages, that nobody else seemed to see. Harry was drawn to it. He plucked it out. _Salazar Slytherin_, it read. _Parselmagic_. Harry double checked that no one was looking and slipped it into his bag, before looking around for more books.

He chose many books but he was quite confused - quite a lot of them seemed to be by Salazar Slytherin and then there was another, little black book. In printed gold writing, the book said _T. M. Riddle, An Introduction To Darkness_. They didn't seem to be books that the school should have, but he took them regardless.

_The Moon and_ _Sun _seemed very interesting - were there any ways to harness their power? He knew muggles were close to using the Sun for their inventions, but could wizards do it too? He hoped so. The Moon was something else entirely. The Full Moon controlled the Werewolves and had a hold over the Wizarding World that nobody wanted to talk about. _Language_ was another; it was of basic green print and there was nothing spectacular about it. It only seemed to be a hundred pages long - until Harry actually opened the book. There were thousands of lost or old languages in that little book, with detailed annotation on how to speak the language as well as learn it to memory.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was watching the boy in dark amusement. He'd placed those books to see if he could break through the shadowing spell and, yes, that sweet scent of vanilla magic washed over him. He breathed deeply before breathing out - Harry Potter had broke through them immediately. It was _delicious_. This little boy held more magic in his blood than Dumbledore realised and Voldemort would use this boy to his full potential. He was his born enemy, but... With the right manipulation, little Harry Potter could become his best asset.

And so the corruption of little Harry Potter began.

* * *

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons and it was even colder here, even though the way to the Slytherin dorms was in this direction. It would have been weird enough, but there were pickled animals floating in jars that gave the room a creepy feel.

Snape slammed open the door to his classroom and glared at the students in annoyance. "What are you waiting for? Enter!" he barked. Harry jumped slightly and entered the room, choosing a seat close to the front on the left-hand side of the room. He pushed his square-framed glasses further up his nose so that he take everything in. "Sit." Snape ordered and Harry sat, removing his quill and inkwell from his bag, as well as a journal. He'd already wrote notes on the subject, but he wanted to flip through and alter them. Severus Snape or not, he was the youngest Potions Master the Wizarding World had ever seen and he knew his stuff.

He started the lesson by taking the register and he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly, though his dark eyes showed slight remorse. "Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity_."

To Harry's relief, nobody began to laugh or snigger. There were two tell tale pricks of embarrassment on his cheeks. Snape finished the register and looked down at the class. His eyes were black, cold and empty.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Like Professor McGonagall, he demanded respect and had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don't honestly believe that you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmerying fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry gazed at the man in slight awe. He _knew _what potions could do - you could look like someone else, age yourself, or even cause powerful obsession within another person to make them love you.

Silence followed his little speech and the man nodded, showing his approval. "Mr. Potter," his dark eyes met Charlie's. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Charlie flushed - he didn't know the answer. "Asphodel and wormwood create a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death, sir." Harry smiled charmingly and Snape's lips twitched into a smirk.

"Two points to Slytherin, Harry Potter, and another two for covering for your brother. Let's try again; where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry came up blank, but Charlie began to smile. "The stomach of a goat, sir, and it will save you from most poisons."

"Another two points for Slytherin!" Snape wasn't proud of them. He was just showering Slytherin with praise, because no one else _would_. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There's no difference, sir - " Harry and Charlie turned to stare at each other as they both began to speak. "Go on - " They stopped again, while the Slytherins began to laugh. "No, you say - " Draco's laugh rang loudest before he quieted, sniggering to himself. The Potter twins were funny.

"They're the same plant - " Charlie began, turning to Snape with a happy grin on his face.

"Also known as aconite." Harry finished, giggling along with Charlie.

Snape shook his head in amusement before stopping himself. "Four points to Slytherin, boys."

The Gryffindor's began to mutter to each other because that _wasn't _fair - "Well, why aren't you writing this down?" Snape snapped.

The rest of the double lesson consisted of Snape putting them into pairs (Harry was with Charlie, of course) and set them to mixing a simple potion to cure boils.

Their potion was perfect and Snape gave them another five points, although not many heard him.

Neville managed to do something wrong and ended up covered in boils while his potion ate away at the stone floor.

* * *

The rest of the week continued in the same tone, although Professor Flitwick seemed to _adore _the Potter twins. "Just like Lily," he'd mutter.

The angry mutters only increased as time went on, but Harry was learning to push past them. They were urging him to hurt someone, but he wouldn't.

* * *

_Parselmagic_

_Parselmagic is using spells from the snake language, Parseltongue. Just like you would use __**Incendio**_(Harry noticed some of the old spells had been blacked out by a rather angry inkwell and newer, modern spells were added) _you could use __**Incendio **__in the snake tongue. You would be combining the two spells and the result would be very strong - even stronger than the existing spell!_

_However, Parseltongue is seen as Dark magic and I have no doubt you would be ostracised, young Slytherin, for your inheritance of my gift. I do apologise for any insults hurled your way, but Parselmagic is __**very **__strong and you should not fault yourself for having this skill._

_As you go on, the spells will get harder and delve more into Black Magic, as opposed to White Magic. These spells are intended to harm a person and if you are of a delicate sensibility, the images and descriptions will prove to be very morbid. I urge you to stop reading if this is the case._

* * *

Harry and Charlie spoke quietly, heads bent close to each other. Their father had sent them a letter, as well as a Daily Prophet clipping.

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31st July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts Goblin this afternoon._

"On our birthday..." Charlie bit his lip harshly. "Nobody would dare steal from Gringotts, Harry!"

Harry's attention was solely focussed on his letter.

**Congratulations onto getting into Slytherin, Harry. I expect you to watch Charlie and protect him ****_at all cost_****. I know you and I know that you're headstrong and stubborn, but Charlie is weak to manipulation and I do not want him to go down the wrong path.**

**I expect you to maintain high grades.**

_Hello, pup. Sirius here. Ignore James, you little Slytherin ratbag, but watch Charlie. You have my permission to curse anyone who is nasty to him at all. Molly Weasley has expressed concern about you and Ronald; if you are to make threats, pup, make sure you _don't _let him whine to mummy over it. James was laughing in the woman's face, which you know he never does. _

_Prongs is concerned over the Gringotts break in. He has used his own connections and the item stolen is in Hogwarts - it is suspected that a teacher is after the item stolen. Use your mirror to find out what the object is, because I can't tell you through this. I know I am already being too revealing, so burn this letter once it has been read._

_Be careful, pup._

**_Hello, cub. Remus here, if you couldn't already tell. I hate to repeat what has already been said, but protect Charlie. I know people will be coming after you, but they will go through Charlie to get to you. Do not dance with the Malfoy's, or flirt with the Zabini. Do not antagonise the Flint, or bully the Parkinson. I know such acts are beneath you, but... I love you both, and I do not want you hurt._**

**_Congratulations on getting into Slytherin. I do hope Severus is treating you well, but tell us if he isn't. We will speak with him. How are you? Are you sleeping well? How are your classes?_**

Love, the Marauders.

xx

Would people really go through Charlie to get to him? He bit his lip in worry.

* * *

Draco was again hit by how _similar _the two boys were, even though they looked very different.

Charlie had tousled, mussed red hair with sparkling hazel eyes that never seemed to show emotions other than happiness. He had a straight nose, full eyebrows and lips with dark eyebrows. His eyes were almond shaped and so very expressive - he wore his emotions on his sleeve, except he didn't. He made everyone else feel his emotions, so he didn't experience them quite as severely.

From his earlier demonstration, he was also very strong with his wand and magic.

Harry had wavy, but neatly combed and slicked, _black _(it was very dark, darker than even Professor Snape's which was saying something) hair and pretty green eyes that were drawn and cold. He had tight reign of his emotions and he was very manipulative - he had gotten Draco's friendship, and then cast it aside like it was nothing, making the blond boy want **more**. He had a pert button nose, sharp cheekbones on a baby face (which didn't really make sense, but it did) and his eyes, too, were almond shaped. He was considerably smaller than Charlie but he commanded himself in such a way that he was daunting to even look at.

He, too, was _very, very _strong. Draco had tried the Disarming Charm on his Defence tutor and the man's wand hadn't budged, even though he managed to get his mothers wand from her hands. Harry stunk of his own magic, a vanilla scent that made Draco slightly woozy. It was impossible for a young boy to have such power at his disposal, and yet here he was. The anomaly to that rule.

The Potter twins were something akin to _Yin _and _Yang_, but what Draco didn't know is that they were both more similar than he believed. Harry would do anything for his family, but Charlie would do **_anything_** for his brother.

Father had been very pleased with his letter and had told him to stick with the two boys - Draco would, if Harry didn't make it twice as hard!

* * *

Voldemort watched little Harry Potter, impassive. He was such a strong boy and wondered if Dumbledore felt it too. The young Malfoy certainly smelt it, from the way he flinched whenever Harry cast a spell.

Little Charlie Potter was interesting, too. Disarming four people? Maybe he had excellent command over his magic? " - Rel?" Snape interrupted his musings and Voldemort sent him a scathing look.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Listen here - " Snape hissed. "You will leave the Potters _alone_, do I understand? I do not trust you and if so much as a hair is _touched _on their heads, I will make you regret your **very **existence."

Interesting. Voldemort gave a tight smile in response. "Over compensating for Lily, I suppose? Don't worry, _Severus_, I won't harm them."

Severus paled and breathed out his nose like an angry bull, but he nodded once. The greasy haired man got out of his chair and left the Great Hall like an overgrown bat stalking his prey.

Voldemort took a sip from his drink and smirked savagely; who did Severus' loyalty lie with? Dumbledore? Or himself? Or maybe... His eyes flickered to the boys again. The deceased Lily Potter?


	6. The Cerberus

"How do you feel about Lily's death?" Snape asked bluntly, shifting in his chair. He'd lit his fireplace and the flames from the fire cast the room with an orange glow.

"Well, she's dead..." Charlie shrugged. His mother had died before her time and that was that. He felt sad at the loss, but... He never knew her.

And that was that, really.

Snape was flummoxed by the answer. He felt no rage? No anger? His mother was slaughtered before him...

"I didn't see it. I was asleep. I am not the one you should be counselling, Professor Snape." Charlie snapped cruelly, his eyes lighting up in a glare Snape knew all too well. It was James Potter's glare, and he felt sick.

"Harry...?" Snape prodded the other boy, but he could feel that cold glare on his face. He wanted to run like a little boy again, but held his ground. This was a child. James Potter's boy, but a boy all the same.

"She - " Harry frowned. "She said 'Fuck you' and he held her under the Torture curse," His nose scrunched up cutely, like he was trying to remember. Charlie knew he was wrapping the hook nosed male around his little finger and withheld the dark smile. "And then she said 'You're dead fucked', snapping her wand. And then he killed her, but he didn't kill her, not really. She was still there, diverting the curse to the lightning symbol... And then He was ash, but she was still there..."

Severus' heart clenched at the pitiful sight the boy made but his heart also swelled in pride, because his Mudblood had stood up to the Dark Lord.

* * *

The days were all quite similar, really. Lessons, notes, read his books and get a little bit smarter each time. His routine was ruined when Professor Quirrell asked him to stay behind after his last lesson of the day. Charlie had been told to go ahead and "Yes I will fill you in later, don't worry!"

"How are you finding your lessons, Harry?" Voldemort asked politely, leading the boy into his private quarters and settling him down in a plush armchair.

"Fine, I don't really struggle at all..." Harry trailed off as he took in the mans' room.

"I know you don't," Voldemort snorted. "All the teachers keep gushing about you, _Harry Potter _this and _Harry Potter _that! Goodness child, you do know how to make good impressions, you know."

Harry blushed brightly and shuffled his feet. His mask seemed to be melted away by this teacher and he felt shy and awkward without it. "So why am I here, sir?"

"I would like to teach you advanced things, Mr. Potter." There. Blunt and to the point. "I am sick of seeing you excel in anything I teach you, so I want to make you struggle."

Harry's eyes widened before he nodded quickly. "Yes please! I've been learning from books and - "

"I know all about your learning, Harry," Voldemort purred, sitting opposite the boy, "I know all about your _Parseltongue _ability." He's a diamond, Voldemort thought contentedly. He was everything Voldemort wanted to be - born to a Pureblood and _seen _as a Pureblood, while having strong magic and political standing behind. Yes, Harry Potter was his little diamond.

Harry's eyes widened before he curled into himself. "Do you..." He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Do you dislike me for it?"

Those little green eyes met his own and the man wanted to purr in delight. He was so weak when everything had been stripped away, so malleable... Perfect. "No, Mr. Potter. I would never dislike you for such a wonderful gift." So easily tainted, with the right words.

"Sir..." Harry bit his lip. "I've been hearing things and I can't stop it."

Of course you won't be able to stop it boy, I've done it to you. Voldemort smirked inwardly. He'd called upon a mischievous spirit (or four) to threaten and tease the boy until he came running to Quirrell, but two weeks later and the boy still hadn't. He put on a concerned face and leaned forward. "What is it?"

"It's like they're telling me to hurt people..." Harry whispered, curling in on himself even more. He was just a scared little boy, Voldemort realised belatedly. Maybe his little trick wasn't as helpful as the man thought. "Please could you help me sir? It's... It's getting worse as the days go on and I _know _my magic is reacting to it, it's been building and building and Charlie keeps getting headaches because I can't release my magic without sapping away at his and it _hurts_, oh Merlin it hurts."

Voldemort placed a gloved hand onto Harry's own and murmured, "Release it into me. I will be able to withstand it." Really he just wanted a taste of the boys intoxicating warmth, and here he was going to get it.

Harry gave him a tiny once-over before nodding, holding the Dark Lord's hand in his own. He breathed deeply, in and out, until Voldemort felt a spark of magic in the air. It was heavy and oppressing and he realised that this was Harry's Necromancy magic that was reacting, not his original core. Wonderful, he thought, feeling the onslaught hit him. The dirty magic would help him greatly.

* * *

Harry grinned when he saw the notice. Flying lessons would be starting Thursday and the Gryffindors and Slytherins would be learning together.

Malfoy talked about flying a lot; he spoke of a time where he'd flown so high that he'd been attacked by a Muggle in a helicopter. Neville Longbottom, however, had never ridden a broom before in his life and it showed. He was shivering and his chubby face was pale. His grandmother had never let him near one (which Harry could understand, because Neville struggled on his own two feet) although Harry didn't know why.

Hermione Granger had never ridden a broom before either, from the way she was reciting _Quidditch Through The Ages _to Neville. Harry was pleased when the owl post interrupted her long tirade.

His beautiful snowy owl dropped another letter in front of him. Charlie's eagle owl dropped a long roll of parchment in front of him before taking the boys toast and leaving.

**Harry, stay away from Quirrell and Snape. I'm not sure who, but someone left me a message on my desk saying that they were both suspicious individuals. Do not let Charlie be alone with either of them.**

(Harry realised that his fathers focus was solely Charlie currently and fought down the intense feelings of jealousy, because Charlie must feel like this daily)

_Alright pup. A high-ranking follower of the Dark Lord was behind the break in and there are several traps in place to guard the item we have already discussed. Have you heard anything from the Hogwarts rumour mill?_

_**I am glad you are well, cub, but your sleeping patterns are curious. You're having nightmares? **_

_**I'm glad your favourite lesson is Defence Against the Dark Arts.**_

_**Now, you may be curious as to why everyone is fretting over Charlie. Please do not continue reading if he is well within eyeshot.**_

_**James has received over thirty letters threatening Charlie's life in Hogwarts because it would destroy you from the inside out. Albus has informed James that there is no way he could be on the school premises without due cause, such as an actual attack on his life, so you are our protector right now. I know you won't want this, but we need you, Harry.**_

_**You have received training so that you can hopefully hold up against a grown wizard until help has arrived; Charlie has his basic Hogwarts education and his extended learning. We were not prepared for Charlie to be targeted and now we are paying for it; we need you, Harry. I am sorry for pressuring you and burdening you with this, but sadly it is necessary until you are home.**_

_**You could probably persuade Prongs into giving you money, if you wish.**_

Harry burnt the letter and put his head in his hands. Someone had been threatening to kill Charlie. Somebody wanted to _kill_ his brother.

He would be thrice damned to the gates of Hell if he let that happen.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry and Charlie hurried down the front steps to the grounds so that they weren't late for their flying lesson. Harry had wound his hand into Charlie's and, although the boy smiled, he didn't know why Harry had suddenly gone so clingy. He was worried.

Neville had broken his wrist and dropped his Remembrall and Malfoy jumped on the chance to humiliate the other boy. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him!" he chortled.

"Give that to me, Draco," Charlie challenged, stepping forward brazenly.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect - how about up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Charlie yelled, but Draco had leapt onto his broomstick and flew off.

Charlie snarled and shot after him, while Harry started to panic. "Give it here, Draco," Charlie pleaded but Draco shook his head.

Draco readied his hand and _threw _the ball, the shining ball whistling through the air. Blood pounded in the boy's ears and he shot after it, plucking it neatly from the sky.

Except.

He kept going and his broom had stopped.

Harry's heart was in his throat as his brother fell, until he too was shooting the air. Charlie was unconscious and there was a bloody stain on the wall he'd slammed into, pouring down his face. His right hand grabbed his brothers and he vowed to himself that he would _never _let Charlie do something so foolish again.

"MR. POTTER!" Professor McGonagall howled, near sprinting across the pitch to get to the pair. "Never have I ever - How could - Where is your teacher?"

Harry gave her a disgusted look and stormed away; was she blind to the fact his brother had a head injury? "Come back here!" she roared and something in Harry _snarled_.

"With all due respect, miss, _my_ _brother is bleeding from his head and you are hindering his healing!_" Harry yelled, before there was a soothing hand on his shoulder and Charlie's weight was lifted from him.

"I will take them to the infirmary, Minerva." Professor Quirrell's silky voice broke the stunned silence - somebody had just shouted back at Professor McGonagall. "Come, Harry."

Harry followed the man's quick strides with his own, before the pair matched up. "Will he be okay?"

"I am not sure, Harry. And, rest assured, I'll have Minnie apologising to you before the days end," Voldemort winked at the boy. He was growing rather fond of him, actually. Once he got past the stammering school girl, there was a witty boy with an acid tongue and a smooth disrespect for authority. "Now... About your foolishness! Had you not thought to use the Levitation Charm on him instead?"

"I - I didn't think," Harry admitted. "But I also don't see why McGonagall didn't bother with using the Levitation charm or the Voice Enhancement charm to save Charlie or _stop _Draco?"

Voldemort lowered his head in agreement. Harry was a childish little boy, petty but very smart. "We are going to work on your emotions, little Harry. You are showing yourself to be a spoiled brat," A harsh truth, but he needed to hear it. "You are acting childish, immature and petty. Your teachers are more experienced than you and this cockiness in your ability, quite frankly, is disgusting."

Harry flushed and he blinked back the angry tears that came to his eyes. "Charlie has been getting death threats," Harry admitted quietly as they entered the Hospital Wing. "I'm worried and my family expects me to watch him twenty four seven. I have no problems with that, but the muttering is still there and it's upsetting me. I only found out this morning."

Voldemort hid his victorious smile. He'd gotten in contact with some of his ruthless Death Eaters and had them do it; they were all too eager, as well as finding him new ways to get his body back. "That is not your responsibility, Harry," Voldemort soothed, placing Charlie on a bed and calling for Poppy. He took Harry out of the room, into her office. "Your father should be handling it - "

"Headmaster Dumebledore says that unless Charlie is actually attacked, dad can't come anywhere _near _the school."

Voldemort pursed his lips in thought. Typical Dumbledore... but how could he hurt Charlie Potter? "Then... I shall look out for him as well." Voldemort nodded his head to add to his statement. Harry looked at him with bright eyes and then there was a slight pressure around his stomach. Voldemort blinked in surprise - had the boy just hugged him?

Harry bounded out of the room and sat on Charlie's bed, holding a cold hand in his own. "Will he be okay, Madam Pomfrey?"

The matron gave him the tiniest of smiles. "Yes, Mr. Potter. I am glad you got him to me when you did."

Harry gave her a small smile back and curled into his brothers body, eyeing the other boy's **too **pale face. "Will my father be informed?"

"Do you wish for him to be informed?"

"... Yes."

* * *

James Potter sighed, leaning back in his chair. He was head of the Auror department and got paid handsomely... but was it worth it? He barely knew his boys favourite ice cream flavour!

His darkened eyes shot to the window, where he saw a Hogwarts owl. He grinned and let it in, giving it a sickle. He opened the letter and he snapped awake.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Your son, Charles Potter, has been involved in a flying incident and it left him with a wound on his head. Your other son requested that I inform you._

_The wound has been healed and Charles is fine, but Harry is very worried._

_Yours sincerely, Madam Poppy_

James felt a little bit sick. Flying incident? His boys were the best flyers he'd ever seen! Where was Harry through all of this? Just _how _did it happen? He grabbed his (Muggle) leather jacket and left to Hogwarts through the floo.

* * *

Harry sniggered. "Open wide, Charlie!"

Charlie pouted but obliged, opening his mouth. Harry shoved the spoon in and Charlie swallowed the chicken broth. "Are you allowed to stay here with me, Harry?"

"I'd like to see them move me." Harry told him, his green eyes darkening in anger. Professor McGonagall had apologised him to immediately, but he had detention for speaking against a teacher. Harry was perfectly fine with that.

Charlie smiled warmly and let himself fall into his pillows. "Has dad been told?"

"Yes, he has." The smooth voice of James Potter interrupted their conversation and the man took the spoon from Harry, feeding Charlie. "Why do you need feeding, son? I thought you had a head injury."

Harry burst into giggles. "Madam Pomfrey had to strap him down to the bed, see, because he wanted to leave the moment he woke up!"

James cracked a grin and murmured, "That's my boy. Harry, where were you when this happened?"

Harry flushed in shame. "I was on the ground but the moment he began to fall I got him, dad."

"_The moment_? That isn't good enough, Harold! You _know_ - "

Charlie interrupted; "Know what? Is this why Harry has been so clingy? What's going on, dad?"

Harry pursed his lips and fought the urge to cry, _again_. He wasn't used to this - he readily admitted that, at home, he is allowed to run amok but... To have people actually call him out on it? It was upsetting him greatly. Were his emotions really so haywire that he couldn't function properly? "I need to go - um, to my lessons. I'll bring you homework and my notes, Charlie. Bye dad."

James didn't bother with a response and Harry left, shame welling in his stomach. He was a terrible twin.

Why did he think informing his father would be a good thing? It was his idea of hitting back - he had to watch his brother from people trying to hurt him, but what about when he hurt himself? What was he, an eleven year old boy, meant to do?

Why was it his fault?

* * *

Voldemort smirked to himself as he sipped his glass of firewhiskey. The bonds in the Potter family were already tense - just how long could they stretch, before something snapped?

A slow knocking at his door made him place the whiskey on the table and wave his hand, opening it. Before he blinked, his arms were full of a crying eleven year old boy.

Hm.

Well, that had never happened before.

"My dad hates me!" Harry wailed. Voldemort slowly pat the boy on the back.

"This is precisely what I mean, Harry," Voldemort purred - _this was excellent_. "You can't control your emotions effectively, in a healthy way. Pause. Breathe. Push the emotions away, to the back of your mind. You are fine. Just breathe."

When the sobbing slowly stopped, Voldemort pushed the boy off of him and flicked his hand to rid himself of tear stains. A gloved hand pulled Harry's face up to his own, but Voldemort saw sadness and misery in the boys eyes.

"Push the emotions away, Harry. They are not useful to you - do you have a journal or anything similar? Write down what upsets you, instead of sobbing like a little girl."

* * *

Harry didn't blink nor smile as Charlie embraced him again, but he felt his body _why was he so numb _adjust and he wrapped his own arms around his brother. "Are you well, Charlie?" Harry murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm fine, Harry - dad told me that you were worried about the looks I've been getting. He admits he's overreacted."

Harry stiffened but a slow smile came over his face. Charlie felt no emotion coming from him. "That's good," Harry murmured again. "I'm sorry for being so clingy."

Charlie noted that Harry's eyes were red and bloodshot, a clear indication that he had been crying. _Who had he been crying to? Why can't I feel anything from him?_

"Let's go find the others, alright?"

Harry hummed in agreement. For some reason, this worried Charlie more than he'd like to admit. "What are you doing tonight? I know you'll probably go to the library, but I was hoping - "

"I'm going to see Professor Quirrell," Harry interrupted quickly. "He's offered to give me extra work, because he knows I find things easy in his lesson."

"Oh..." Charlie's excited smile dropped and he nodded his head. "Okay, Harry. Love you."

"I love you too, Charlie."

The walk to the Slytherin dorms was silent and long, but Charlie didn't want to talk. He felt... sick.

* * *

"_He - _" Charlie moaned, flopping down on his bed. "He said he was going to Quirrell but - "

"Calm down, Potter," Draco commanded; the glass on his bedside table was beginning to shake and Harry's curtains were being pulled taut by an unseen force. "What's wrong?"

"_Harry_! He - I was in the Hospital Wing and my dad came in, then Harry got _really _upset and left. Dad said that Harry didn't like the looks I was receiving and dad told him to guard me, basically. My dad even called him **Harold**, and he only calls him that when he's really upset! Now, Harry won't talk to me and I can't feel _anything _from him and he completely ignored me in favour of Quirrell!"

"I'm sure there's nothing wrong, Charlie," Blaise soothed, but there was a hint of worry as well. Charlie couldn't feel anything? "It's been a long day - the look he gave to Professor McGonagall could have destroyed diamond."

Charlie shivered and nodded, but he still looked sad. "Say," Draco murmured, checking the time. "It's only seven o'clock, maybe we should go find him? Walk him back? I would have thought he'd appreciate the company."

Charlie clearly brightened up and removed his school robes, changing into a dark grey turtle-neck jumper and black slouch trousers. "Let's go; maybe we could go to the kitchens?"

Blaise smiled in agreement, but his dark eyes were worried. _Surely the Potter Lord would be falling over his First born son? Just what is going on?_

* * *

"Now, the incantation is _explodere_. No, don't scoff, Harry, it really is." Voldemort hid a smirk himself at the childish, incredulous expression that crossed the boys face.

"Are the spells all so literal?" Harry asked politely, before removing his wand and flinging the Dark curse at the wooden dummy. When the thing exploded into tiny pieces, before the pieces themselves blew up too, he wondered what it would do to a human.

"Yes, and as for the spell on a body... Well." Voldemort removed a small, white mouse from a cage before murmuring, "_Explodere_," and flicking his wand in an infinity loop. The mouse squealed loudly before it's ribs and intestines were ripped from it's body and it exploded into a bloody mush on his oak table. The man watched impassively as Harry flinched and recoiled as if physically struck. "It isn't typically used in battle because of the mass damage it can cause. It is used for construction or destruction of a building, by destroying the pieces into usable rubble."

That wasn't so bad, Harry mused.

Voldemort inwardly smirked; _Explodere _was his own invention when he was a sixteen year old boy and yes, he had used it in battle. The effects were astronomical, really. He had taken out some of Grindelwald's followers with the spell, after they'd sneered about his heritage.

Needless to say, he was not taken lightly ever again.

Subdued knocking on his door had the man curse and give Harry a fond stare. The boy was a prodigy, he was sure. And a Horcrux, too, but Voldemort wouldn't tell him that. He'd just order his Death Eaters not to harm him.

"I do believe our time is up, Harry." Voldemort groaned and stretched his, _Quirrell's, _back before waving his hand. The door flew open to reveal Charlie, smiling sheepishly, flanked by a sneering Draco and a frowning Blaise. Voldemort was pleased to note those green eyes showed no extensive emotion, such as joy. Only happiness, which meant he was closer to hiding normal emotions on top of distinctive ones.

"Good bye, sir." Harry smiled brightly, picking up his bag and sliding his school robe into the bag. "Good night."

Voldemort inclined his head and the door slammed shut behind the group, leaving a nervously smiling Harry with two annoyed boys and one very happy boy. "Let's go explore, Harry," Charlie grinned. "Maybe the corridor we were told not to go down? It could be our very own Marauder adventure!"

"No, Charlie," Harry shook his head. "If it's forbidden, I don't want to go down there. Besides, I'm tired and I just want to sleep."

Charlie sighed forlornly and did _those eyes. _His lower lip jut out, his nose scrunching cutely and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Harry flushed and turned. "Damnit, Charlie - I'm not doing it!"

There was a tiny whimpering sound. "Merlin be damned, if we die so help me I will kill you a thousand times over Charles Everette Potter!" Harry spat, before taking Charlie's hand in his own and dragging him down the stairs.

Blaise hid his sniggers behind his hand but Draco just watched in disgust. The twin brother to the Boy-Who-Lived had such control over his brother... How would it manifest?

Would Harry do _anything _for his brother?

Would he kill for his brother?

They walked around the school for what seemed to be hours, before they finally reached the Charms Corridor. "We're going to have to be quiet now," Charlie whispered. "We're breaking the First year curfew."

The three boys nodded their agreement, before Blaise's foot clipped the side of an armour piece. The four froze, before the armour clattered on the ground.

"FIRSTIES BREAKING CURFEW ON THE CHARMS CORRIDOR! FIRSTIES OUT OF BED!" Peeves cackled, flying to the side of them with a whoop of delight.

"Please, Peeves, stop it!" Charlie begged, before he heard quick shuffling behind them. "RUN!"

The four boys leapt up and over the ruined armour while Peeves laughed loudly behind them. They ran to the end of the corridor where a large, heavy door was - but it was locked.

"_Alohamora_!" Harry removed his wand and tapped the lock. The lock clicked and the door opened; they leapt in and slammed the door shut behind them, but Harry pressed his ear to the door.

"Where are they, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Tell me, quick."

"Say _please_," Peeves had a smile in his voice.

"Don't mess with me Peeves!"

"What are you going to do, you pathetic Squib?" Harry hissed but carried on listening.

"Now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves sang.

"Fine then - please?"

"NOTHING!" That was when Harry took his attention away from the door, because Draco had been pulling on his jumper for a minute.

"What, Draco?" Harry asked tiredly, before he turned around.

This was the Forbidden Corridor.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish, hooked fangs that appeared to be sharpened into blade-like points.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

"A Cerberus?" he whispered in awe, before the door behind them slammed open and Charlie's hands were around his jumper collar, pulling him away from the massive beast.

Harry took note of the barely hidden trap door beneath the dog and wondered what it was guarding.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy neatly folded the newest letter from his First born and Heir, Draco.

_Dear father,_

_Harry is completely devoted to his brother, but something has gone wrong. He was gone from being marginally expressive with his emotions, as he is very manipulative, really, to having little to no __**basic**__emotions. It's odd._

_He has lessons with Professor Quirrell after lesson hours _(Lucius frowned; who was Quirrell? Why was he so interested in the Boy-Who-Lived?) _and you'll never guess what - we (Blaise and I) followed the Potter twins and Filch nearly caught us (Really father, could you not remove that Squib from the school?) so we ran to the Forbidden Corridor - you won't believe why it's forbidden! There was a __**three headed dog**__! What is Dumbledore playing at, father?_

_I think there is strife between the Potters, especially between Harry and James Potter._

_Love,_

_Draco Malfoy_

His son lacked structure in his writing, Lucius moaned mentally. Potters, three headed dog, Potters. Were all of those tutors for nothing?

His eyes flickered down to his left arm. The Dark Mark had been shifting and gradually darkening, signifying his Lord's return. He hoped he wouldn't be tortured for his lack-of-help, but he had a son to look after.

* * *

_Dear Sirius,_

_I know where the stone is being kept. We went into the Forbidden Corridor a few moments ago and there was a Cerberus guarding a trap door._

_Should I get the stone?_

_Love,_

_Harry_

_Your loving Godson_


	7. The Everything

When Snape approached them in the Common Room, looking like he'd swallowed a rather bitter lemon, two perfectly-wrapped packages in his hands, Harry's grin threatened to tear his face in two. "You two - You two have managed to bend the rules of the school within your First year and have been allowed onto the Quidditch team. Charles, you will be trying out for Seeker and Beater, while Harold, you will be trying out for Chaser and Seeker."

Snape's face took on a rather angered expression now. "I have won a five-year streak against Minerva and if the admission of you two pests onto the team changes my streak, I will string you up by your underpants on the Quidditch stands. Here," He thrust the two packages at the pair. "Your father sent them."

Harry took the package with a smile, Charlie copying after he'd gotten over his initial shock. Charlie loosened the tight strings and the paper fell away, revealing his Nimbus 2000 that he wasn't allowed to bring with him to school. "We're on the team?" Charlie breathed. "Harry, we're on the Quidditch team."

"Don't worry sir," Harry beamed, caressing the smooth wood with a fond smile. "You'll have a six-year win streak if we pass the trials."

"Trials will be tonight; practice is every Friday evening from seven o'clock to nine o'clock." Snape nodded again, as if to show they had to be punctual, and swirled away, his robes flying behind him like a bat stalking its prey.

Harry and Charlie shared an identical grin and rushed down the steps to their bedroom, throwing open the door. "We've got our brooms!" Charlie yelled, placing it carefully onto his trunk.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand?" Blaise groaned in jealously. "I've got a Comet One Hundred at home."

"I have a Comet Two Sixty," Draco cut in with a smirk to Blaise. "But - "

"We might be on the team!" Harry beamed. "Dad'll be so jealous!"

Harry smoothed out the long, straight twigs and lovingly eyed the Nimbus Two Thousand writing near the top. Draco pouted to himself, inwardly seething with jealousy.

* * *

As seven o'clock drew closer, Harry got his broom and set off at dusk to the Quidditch field. The one at his home had nothing on this beauty - hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end.

He mounted his broom and kicked off, flying through the air without a care in the world. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed this.

"Potter!" Flint yelled and Harry floated down to the ground with a euphoric smile on his face. "Your competition today is Charles, your brother, and Albert Moon."

Harry eyed the other boy, with his pale eyes and the limp hair and hid the smirk. This would be easy.

When the trials had finished, Harry was appointed Slytherin Seeker while Charlie was the Slytherin Beater. The boy with the pale eyes was red-faced and his chest was heaving, but Harry paid him no heed. If he didn't want the full brunt of the Potter family breathing down his fathers neck, he'd leave it alone.

And, when they were stood in the dungeons, laughing with Draco and Blaise, Harry was very surprised.

"You cheated!" Albert Moon snarled, his friends surrounding the four of them. "I want you to admit to Flint that you cheated! No way can two _First years _be better than me!"

"Maybe it's our blood?" Harry retorted smartly, leaning back into his friends without even realising it. "After all... How diluted is the Moon blood now? Fae, Vampire... and then only a fourth wizarding blood."

Charlie piped up, "I'm surprised you can even get on a broom!"

Moon flushed an ugly shade of puce as both Malfoy and his friends began to laugh. "Watch yourself, Potter - don't want to end up the same way as your mother!"

The laughter hushed, waiting on bated breath for the Potter Heir's response. Draco leant froward in sheer excitement. "Is that a threat?" Harry purred, standing up straight and drawing himself up to his measly height. Charlie stood up straighter too, pressing himself to Harry's back, while Draco stepped closer. Blaise stayed behind, his eyes glinting an interesting shade of violet in the low light; he was remaining neutral, but Draco wanted to win some brownie points. "Let's see, hm? Let's figure it out. _You_, the Heir to the Noble House of Moon, are threatening _me _and _my brother_, the Heir and Second to **Ancient** and **Most Noble** House of Potter. You are also threatening to the Heir and Second to the** Ancient** and **Most Noble** House of Black, Charles Potter and myself - now, Moon, what _exactly _are you going to do? We would _crush _you."

"Probably whine to his Troll of a mother." Charlie whispered into Harry's ear, but Moon heard. Harry smothered his amusement.

Harry was left staring at the underside of a wand while Moon held it to Charlie's throat. He was so short. "I swear to Merlin, Potter - don't fucking test me!"

"_Reducto._" Harry spoke clearly, his eyes dark in anger. His wand never left his holster, his right hand twitching slightly.

Albert Moon began to scream as he was flung across the corridor; Harry had shot the curse at his stomach and he was bleeding sluggishly from a large, gaping wound in his belly.

Charlie slammed his hands down on Harry's shoulders as the small boy began to move forward; their bond was trembling in Harry's pure _fury_. "Somebody get Snape!" Charlie roared as the bond began to howl, making his head ring and his ears start to ache. There were war drums in his ears and the anger in the air was near tangible.

Someone shot across the hall, Charlie didn't see who - Harry's magic was slowly leaking out in visible white streams, tiny at first, invisible to those who couldn't see what Charlie saw - until a small, concentrated piece of magic was sent shooting across to the sobbing boy. Charlie pulled his brother back, before all he heard was, "_Stupefy_," and the pair were sent sprawling to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Charlie was woken up roughly by the sound of his father's angry curse. "Well you know what, Moon - you can sure as hell try to sue us, but from every thing that we have heard it was your own worthless spawn that initiated it!"

There was the sharp sound of a curtain being drawn, so Charlie allowed his eyes to flicker open. "Dad?" he whispered, sitting up on the bed. "What's up?"

James' startled eyes met his own before the man collapsed onto the bed and wrapping his arms around the boy. Charlie hugged back.

"Moon says he's going to press charges," James scoffed. "The Malfoy Heir, the Zabini Heir and the portraits in that area all say that worthless Troll spawn initiated it." James' voice lowered. "Well done on stopping Harry, my son. The First Born's are always that much powerful, but they are anchored by their parents magic or by an item of use. You are his anchor, precious. He is your protector, but you are his anchor - perhaps, your role is so much stronger than his."

Charlie nodded into the man's neck, but he was starting to wonder - just how strong was his brother? "Is Harry awake yet?"

James' stubble rubbed against his face as the man shook his head. "He's magically exhausted, bless his socks. Plenty of sweets, too."

"How's the other boy?" Charlie murmured, his eyes starting to droop slightly.

James' chest rumbled and Charlie smiled warmly as the man began to laugh. "Massive wound across his abdomen, something that Poppy won't heal, and he's severely bruised across his chest. Poppy was beside herself when she saw him, but once she'd learned what he'd done..."

James pulled back and gave Charlie a wink. "Well. Any way - congratulations! Beater, aye? Didn't think you had it in you, but do your old man proud."

Charlie grinned. "I'm going back to sleep again - I doubt I'll remember anything you just said so I apologise if I ask you the same again."

Charlie's eyes slid shut and he fell limply onto the bed, while James started to laugh loudly. He didn't dare mention the Troll that had managed to destroy the girls bathroom.

* * *

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Harry had to make sure that didn't happen by catching the snitch as soon as possible and Charlie had to make sure that didn't happen by taking the Gryffindor Seeker out as soon as possible.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry or Charlie play because Flint had decided that, as their secret weapons, Harry and Charlie should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker and that Charlie was playing Beater had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress. Charlie thought it was the first one, but Harry rather thought it was the second.

Harry decided that he was lucky to have a smart brother, because the pair were struggling with the homework load. It wasn't hard, as they'd done the majority of this when they were eight and nine, but still. Homework required detail in order for them to get the top marks, and by Merlin was there so much detail to add!

He went to bed with a full tummy and his tummy was also doing flip-flops while butterflies tap danced their way out of it. He'd be flying in front of the school tomorrow.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

Harry filled a bowl with cereal and covered it liberally in sugar and milk, gulping it down with a large mug of sugary coffee. He took some toast and nibbled on it, ripping apart into tiny pieces, before popping them into his mouth one by one.

Charlie stumbled into the hall, with sleep-mussed hair and heavy bags under his eyes. Harry wordlessly pushed him his cup of coffee after putting a few more scoops in and stirring. Charlie grinned tiredly and began to sip at it, while Harry got a separate plate and piling it high with a full English breakfast coupled with breakfast tea and a Pepper-up potion.

Lily hovered nervously to the side of her two boys and was giving Harry praise after praise regarding the extreme care he took with his brother.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Draco and Blaise were up in the top row, a large banner enchanted to float above their heads. It read, "_Slytherin; Slyther__**twin**_" which had set Harry and Charlie in hysterics. It was a nice thought, but tacky. The writing was green and silver, with a large, lovely snake painted beneath that flashed between green and silver, too.

In the Quidditch changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their emerald robes. Flint cleared his throat and growled, "Win."

There were various hums and then Harry and Charlie were following the rest of the team out onto the pitch.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. Her yellowish hawk eyes scanned over the assorted heads and she seemed to nod to herself.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to Marcus Flint. Harry rather thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry slid elegantly onto his shiny Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc - no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Harry hissed in frustration and flew up higher, his sharp eyes scanning for the Snitch.

He met Charlie's eyes with his own before his brother nodded and smashed poor little Angelina off of her broom.

"FOUL!" The Gryffindors roared while Harry hid his own smile - and then he saw a tiny fleck of gold, hovering over a large sand pit.

Blood was rushing to his head, but Harry shot down, down, down... The Gryffindor Seeker was following him, making Harry grit his teeth in frustration, so he plummeted to the ground and -

Pulled up before he could collide.

The Gryffindor Seeker wasn't as lucky and was sent to ground with a loud crack of his arm.

"FOUUUUUL!" Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Harry shot to the ground, privately smug. He had caught Sirius out with that move before; it was his personal favourite.

She spoke angrily to Flint who scoffed in her face, and the game started again.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul..."

"Jordan, I'm warning you-"

"All right, all right. One Potter nearly kills Angelia, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession. The other Potter has broken the Gryffindor Seeker's arm, so he's being substituted..."

It was as Harry dodged a cheeky Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts - he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating. Nobody seemed to notice Harry, who was floating higher and higher in the sky while his broom lurched and bucked - "HARRY!" Sirius roared over the crowd, his wand out at the ready and his face pale and clammy. Remus was standing next to him, his amber eyes wide and worried, while Dad was pale faced and his eyes were murderous, stormy.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

Hermione wiped at her eyes hurriedly and grabbed a set of binoculars from the boy next to her - Harry and her met up in the Library and he'd become her very first friend.

Her eyes landed on Snape, who was chanting beneath his breath and, her mind set, she dodged through students and teachers alike. Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

Harry clambered back onto the broom, gave Charlie a cocky wink, and shot to ground before one hand shot to his mouth as he slowed to a hover. He gave a great retch, coughed and spluttered before something gold popped out of his mouth.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete and utter confusion.

* * *

"Snape was jinxing your broom!" Hermione whispered harshly before she was dragged away with the crowd. Her brown eyes were wide and a little bit glazed - she'd just set a teacher on fire!

James, Remus and Sirius shot towards them. "Who was jinxing your broom, Harry? Did you see?" Remus spat, his eyes frenzied and more than wild - he was animalistic.

"I didn't see Remy; calm down," Harry gave the man a tiny smile. "I'm fine, see? No harm done."

Remus shook his head stubbornly and opened his arms wide for a hug - Harry stepped close in as Remus began to sniff at him. He knew now that this wasn't truly Remus - the wolf in him was making sure he wasn't hurt.

"You both played fantastically well." Sirius chimed in and pulled Remus away, wrapping his arms around Harry in a tight hug. "Although your tactics were so Slytherin!"

Sirius leaned down and whispered, "_You must get the stone._" Harry hummed in response, while Charlie snapped his head to Harry.

His emotions had gone again, but why? Why was he hiding away now?

* * *

Harry holstered his wand and stepped back with a tight smile. Voldemort gave him a disapproving look. "You have been slacking. Last week, Lily was almost completely gone. Now, she hovers over you like a clingy child."

Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement. Couldn't Quirrell see it was too much for him, to get rid of his mother?

Voldemort let out a loud, disappointed sigh. This was the part he loved the best - warping little Harry's mind until the boy was reliant on him and _only _him. "What have you been doing, boy?"

Voldemort knew what the boy had been doing - he had passed the first, second and third puzzles to get to the Philosopher's Stone, while also training Charlie and balancing lessons and learning in between. He really was a marvellous little boy; perhaps Voldemort would make him his heir? Once the time was right, of course.

"Um - " Harry flushed. "Well, basically... There's something in this school that somebody wants, so I've been trying to get it for them."

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Voldemort purred, his eyes narrowing in amusement as the boy's head shot up in shock. "Leave it alone, Harry. It does not concern you."

Voldemort turned his back on the child as a content smirk bloomed on his face. He thumbed several books on his desk before removing two bulky ones from the pile. He carefully passed them to the boy. "The bigger book contains memory spells - ones that can increase memory span, or speed up learning. _However_," he added sharply. "They come at a price. Headaches, temporary mind blocks... Do not use them two days before exams, and do not leave it active if you sleep."

Harry grinned widely, flashing his canine teeth. His face showed clear hunger for these spells. "The other... It is a Necromancy book; very dark, buzzing with magic. Do not let Charlie or your father, better yet even Dumbledore see it. If they know you have it..." Voldemort let the warning hang in the air.

"Thanks, sir. Say, what are you doing for the Winter solstice?" Harry looked at him a bit too eagerly.

"I am going to visit family." Voldemort lied; really, he was going to his followers and seeing what they had come up with for restoring his body, just in case he didn't get the Philosopher's stone.

* * *

Harry tiptoed past Peeves and entered the hopefully abandoned classroom. Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

He froze at he sight of a large, shiny mirror in the middle of the room. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. "_I show not your face, but your hearts desire_." Harry murmured to himself. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped in front of it.

He saw, firstly, himself - he had bedraggled hair and his eyes were sleepy, his skin pale. And then, he was growing older, taller... He looked down at himself but he didn't change at all. He looked back to the mirror. There was another man stood next to him and Harry subconsciously checked to his left and right. Nobody was there.

The Harry in the mirror had cool, jaded eyes and his hair was neatly combed. His skin was radiant and pale. The other man... He had teal, slitted eyes and cropped dark hair. And he was - his hand was... It was wrapped around his waist and the Harry in the mirror blushed a pale shade of red, swatting the other man's hand away.

Harry's pulse quickened. What mirror was this? His hearts desire was this?

Another man stepped forward; his body was heavily muscled, his hair was shaggy and red in colour, his skin darkly tanned. The man grinned impishly and Harry realised with a blink of shock that this was Charlie, grown up.

Behind the trio, there was Draco, Blaise, his mother, his father, Sirius, Remus... They were all smiling, all happy... And Harry felt the bitter sting of tears prickle in his eyes. He turned his back to the mirror and left.

Because not even Necromancy could bring his mother back, and his father would never be happy. He stormed down into the dungeons, his magic frenzied and stormed into the First Year dorms. He packed his clothing away into his trunk before doing the same to Charlie's. He packed their things away before collapsing onto his bed, trying desperately not to cry. His father would never be happy.

* * *

Charlie entered the dorms just like Harry - his magic was howling and calling out to Harry. Those in the Common Room could feel it and their emotions were reacting similarly; he was in agony, feeling Harry's pure emotion, and now Charlie was passing it onto everyone he met.

"Harry?" He stepped into the clean room and saw a lump in the middle of Harry's bed. He pulled back the covers with his magic, not even realising that wandless magic was something he _shouldn't _be able to do, and lay next to his sobbing brother. "What's wrong?"

"Dad will - will never be happy," Harry hiccuped. "And it's all my fault!"


	8. The Attack

In the Potter household, they celebrated Christmas. It was unusual, for they _were _a Pureblood wizarding family, but James loved this holiday. He adored it. Giving presents and getting them in return? Nothing better.

He waited eagerly at King Cross station for his two boys. He thought of his eldest son, Harry, and a feeling of guilt welled up in him. It was James' own fault that Charlie wasn't correctly trained and he was taking it out on his other, obviously well-trained son. He steeled his nerves and grit his teeth with determination. He would apologise to him - he had been cruel.

* * *

Harry gazed out of the window with a solemn look. His eyes were sore from crying last night. Charlie let out a loud snore next to him and Harry started to grin.

He decided, right then and there, he would sort himself out. He was weak. His emotions were up and down - one moment, he was fine. The next, he was crying. He was going to calm himself down, mellow out...

He was going to become the Pureblood heir he had been raised to be. No more dumbing himself down for his classmates.

He removed one of the books Professor Quirrel had given him from his bag - the bag was his mothers, dark dragonhide and perhaps a tad girlish, but it was his mums so he didn't really care. _Memory and You_, it was called. _By T. M. Riddle_. There was that name again. Harry frowned, confused - _An Introduction to Darkness _was written by T. M. Riddle, too - so why had Harry never heard of the man before? He shrugged his shoulders and opened the book._  
_

The train ride passed by as Harry read the book. He already had a few spells in mind to use; one was particularly catching his eye.

**Obliviate**

_Oh-BLI-vee-ate_

_This is a charm that can be used to erase memories from ones mind. They are specifically used to erase **part **of a memory, not the mind. The Ministry of Magic, no matter how many times they deny it, have Obliviaters to remove memories of Dark witches and wizards - however, they claim that they are there to erase Muggle minds. If one uses too much power, the sudden influx can completely erase someone'__s mind and possibly cause major brain damage._

_There is a fault with this spell. If you enter someone's mind, who has forcibly lost their memories, there is a gaping hole in their memory where that memory previously was. This alerts the person who has entered the memory that someone has taken the memory from the persons mind and that leads to all sorts of complications._

_To combat this, there is a tricky piece of magic that creates false memories and implants them into their head. I, myself, have used it. It adds a memory to that gaping hole and the persons memory does the rest - it fixes it in, and makes the victim think that the memory was what originally happened._

_These two spells should be used in conjunction with each other._

He flicked the page to find a note, written in neat slanted hand writing.

_Mr. Potter,_ it read._  
_

_These books are my gift to you, as a Yule present. Please use them wisely._

_Memory spells should not be dabbled in lightly - one false move and you could wipe your mind - or in the very least, kill yourself - take my advice and **use **them on yourself, or those around you from the influx of magic. I have no doubt that you will excel at these from the way you flourish in my lessons (and your other lessons, by the sound of the gushing in meetings we have) but please exercise caution and let someone know that you are doing the spell for when something goes wrong._

_I recommend page forty-two, where you are given the spell to release any hidden memories. I do not recommend it in so much as I believe someone has tampered with your mind - I recommend it as it allows information that you have forgotten to be used. Depending on the power used, you can possibly unlock even your childhood memories, even though I would prefer you didn't do that. It may prove to be... traumatic._

_I also recommend the spell on page sixty-four. This allows you to make an imprint, almost, of anything you want - that you can later recall wholly. I find it particularly useful for History of Magic, what with Binns being the teacher._

Harry stifled his chuckle, which had Charlie give a slight snuffle in his sleep and shift around with a loud groan. Draco's eyes flickered up from the Daily Prophet, where there was an interesting section on the new Pureblood Laws being passed, and he gave Harry a tight smile.

_Have a good Yule,_

_Professor Quirrel_

Harry's smile was threatening to split his face in half - he didn't feel bad, now, for leaving an expensive quill on the man's desk. "Draco? Blaise?" Harry beamed at the other boy. "When Yule is over, would you like to come to Potter Mansion?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Sure, Harry. What day?"

"Maybe the second of January?" Charlie suggested sleepily, sitting up. Harry slid his leather bookmark into his book and closed it, sliding it into his bottomless bag.

"That's fine for me," Draco hummed in thought. "Blaise?"

"That is fine for me as well." The dark skinned boy nodded, as if to emphasise his point, before he turned his attention back to his fictional book.

"You'd be able to sleep?" Charlie asked hopefully - the other two boys nodded. Harry clapped his hands together. It was going to be fun!

The train slowed to a stop an hour later. The twins wished their friends goodbye, Harry finding Hermione's curly, fluffy hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll owl you your present."

Hermione was blushing brightly, her heart pounding in her ears, as she nodded, flustered. Harry gave her a charming smile and spun on his foot, leaving to find his dad.

He found the man chatting amiably with Lucius Malfoy. _Surprising! _Harry noted with a small amount of shock. Remus was standing next to the pair, pressing light kisses all over Charlie's face who was a vibrant red. Draco was smirking into his fathers back, while Narcissa Malfoy embraced her only son. _Where's Sirius?_

Harry let out a squeal as a big, black dog bowled into him and floored him. His trunk and bag clattered to the floor. "Sirius!" Harry shrieked in laughter as the man changed back. The man was giggling like a little schoolboy, tickling him mercilessly.

Draco's smirk turned into a wide grin. Narcissa prided herself on picking up on things that no one else would_ (for that was how she survived so long, without being a Death Eater)_ and she definitely noticed the change in expression. She would be having words with Lucius - Draco needed true friends and it seemed he had found on in the Boy-Who-Lived. She would not let Lucius' schemes stop him from having friends.

* * *

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAAAAS!" James howled, leaping into Harry's room and tickling the sleeping boy. Harry's eyes snapped open, two emeralds glaring back him in mock-anger.

"Go get Charlie, dad," Harry yawned, not even flinching at the man's tickles. Only Sirius could make him laugh through tickling. "I'll set everything up downstairs."

James nodded, pressing a kiss to Harry's nose, before bounding out of the room like an excited toddler. Harry groaned loudly and wrapped his duvet around him, wriggling off of his bed and sliding across the carpet on his bum.

He made it down the marble staircase on his bum, even managed to slide through the halls to the living room while his ancestors watched on in amusement. He finally, _finally _got up when he dropped his duvet in a pile and turned it into a nest. He started pushing Remus' presents towards him, pushed Sirius' to the plush arm-chair the man had claimed as his own, pushed his and Charlie's together and put James' to the left of them.

"Morning, Harry," Remus yawned. "Did you know Prongs has gotten us up at five o'clock?"

Harry grimaced. So early? "Do you want something to drink, Remy?" Harry asked, standing up and already heading towards the kitchen.

"Sweet tea please! Three sugars, big mug, lots of milk!" Remus called, smiling wryly to himself. Harry acted like Lily sometimes - it was painful to experience.

Harry passed Sirius on the way, who was storing loudly on the floor. Harry shook him gently and sent him through to the living room; Sirius would _obviously _like a milky, sugary, three-scoops-of-coffee shot to wake him up.

Harry made himself a sugary sweet cup of tea, made Charlie a bitter coffee, Sirius his coffee, Remus' drink before making his dad hot chocolate and lathering it with whipped cream and sugar. He placed them all a tray and carried them through to the living room, where everyone was sat waiting.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Charlie chirped, taking his mug from the tray. "Thanks."

James took his mug. "Thanks, son."

Sirius and Remus both took their mugs with a murmur of appreciation. "Go open your presents, Harry." He fell into his duvet, smiling slightly when Calypso and Felix immediately leapt on his lap. The two cats were slightly overweight and Felix seemed to have some problems with his sight, but his cats were healthy and going strong.

Charlie grinned charmingly and tore into the biggest present there. The wrapping was terrible - it was obviously Sirius' wrapping (especially as he had used bright red wrapping paper covered in golden lions). It revealed a large box, so Charlie excitedly tore the lid off.

To another box. Charlie started giggling, tearing lid after lid away from the box - until it revealed a tiny box sat in the middle. Charlie gave him a look of sheer frustration and opened the lid.

He gaped and Harry looked over his shoulder. In the box sat a ring. It was a platinum band and lined with diamond, emeralds and sapphires - he picked it up and on the inside it read, _Toujours Pur_. Sirius grinned sheepishly. "It's the Black Family ring... Well, for the Heir. I was going to give it you on your birthday but I had to make sure that by Magic you are listed as my Heir."

"I love it," he breathed, sliding it on his finger. It fit his finger perfectly. "Does this mean...?" Charlie left his question hanging.

"It means that by Law, you are my Heir." Sirius murmured. "Go on, Harry. Open your present from James."

James passed Harry a small box, smiling proudly. Harry took it with shaky fingers, revealing a gold band filled with rubies. He looked on the inside and it read _Siempre Fuerte_. James smiled as Harry slid it carefully on his finger. "Open the rest of your presents, boys." James sat back in his chair.

Charlie dove on the pile and by the end of it, he had new dragonhide boots from Blaise, dragonhide gloves from Draco, a lovely glass sculpture from Hermione and tonnes of sweets.

There was another present left and he opened it to show a blank piece of parchment.

"That's the new Marauder's map," Remus told him proudly. "Vastly improved from the other one."

Harry opened his quickly too - from Blaise he got a plain golden necklace with a note attached.

_Harry, this has been enchanted to protect you from strong hexes and curses, as well as only being removable by you. Please do not take it off, you reckless prat._

Harry smiled to himself and put it on. Blaise knew him all too well. From Draco, he received a black leather journal, with gold printing. _T. M. Riddle_.

There was that name again, and Harry was getting so damn frustrated seeing it all the time. He felt like someone was trying to tell him something! A note attached fell out of the packaging.

_Dear Harry,_

_My father said that you would like this. It is a journal that once belonged to a family friend, and he enchanted it so that it would reply. I think you'll love having a new project, don't you? I expect that you'll know everything about it by the time the second rolls around._

_From, Draco_

Harry placed it in his pile, feeling just how delicate the book was. He would investigate it tonight but for now, he had presents to open.

He opened one that was wrapped in brown paper, next, and something smooth and silvery pooled on the ground. He ran his hands over the soft cloth before his eyes widened. "This is the Potter Invisibility Cloak!" he murmured, astonished.

James grinned widely. "From Dumbledore to you, Harry. Go on Charlie, where's your present?"

Harry pursed his lips when he realised Charlie didn't have anything from Dumbledore. "Imagine all the things we could do with this," Harry whispered, wrapping his hands into the material and grinning as his hands disappeared. "Oooh, should we prank the teachers? Snape first, definitely Snape."

Charlie's grateful look wasn't lost on anyone in the room, but James felt enraged. How dare that old man forget his other son? "I reckon he meant for you to share it, loves." Harry's angry eyes met James' own, and the pair knew that wasn't the case; however, it seemed to appease Charlie, who laughed and nodded.

Harry opened the rest of his presents before turning expectantly to his father. James opened a neatly wrapped little box, and nearly had a heart attack as rubber snakes flew out of it. Harry and Charlie burst into laughter. James shot them a mischievous grin, promising retribution, before he pulled out a plain bracelet from the box. It was a basic silver chain bracelet, which he put on straight away. "It protects against most dark curses and things like that, and it also heats up near a poisonous substance and stuff." Charlie explained, turning expectant eyes to Remus.

Remus grinned and opened his present from the boys - it was a picture, that much he could tell. His breath left in a slight 'whoosh' as he gazed down at the painting.

It was them. As a family. Harry was sat on James' lap, Charlie on Lily's, while Remus rested his head on Sirius' shoulder, sleeping. Lily was laughing, her hair vibrant in the sun, and her and James were holding hands. "It's wonderful!" he exclaimed, one hand absently stroking Lily's painted face. "Who made it?"

"Harry did the outline, I did the painting." Charlie told him proudly. "It took ages to get it right, especially making it move, but we got it down."

Remus thanked them profusely, before the attention was all on Sirius. He unwrapped his present slowly, before letting out a terrified shriek. Out came several sets of snakes - and Sirius was _petrified _of snakes. He'd jumped when James opened his present, and he really should have expected this.

"You little twats!" Sirius blurted out, as he tried to calm himself. He took another peek at his present and whimpered loudly as the rubber snake covered what his present was. He flicked it away with his wand.

He had gotten a painted picture too, except his was a portrait of a young man, only eighteen. He had sharp cheekbones, a thin-lipped smile and stormy eyes. His dark hair fell into his eyes and Sirius watched as his brother shook it away with a wide grin. "Thanks, boys." Sirius told them weakly.

* * *

Christmas dinner was a sombre affair; James was too busy thinking about Lily's cooking and comparing it to his own, burnt Yorkshire puddings, along with Charlie who was being influenced by his fathers emotions.

Harry stabbed his roast potato with his fork and speared it into his mouth. He was... itching to write in the journal Draco had given to him. He hoped it would solve the mystery of T. M. Riddle.

"I'm done. May I leave?" Harry asked politely, setting his cutlery down. James' glazed eyes met his own and the man waved his hand in the direction of the door. Harry took it as a yes and left, picking up the journal as he went.

_Hello,_ he wrote. _My name is Harry Potter and I'm eleven years old._

_Hello_, it replied. _My name is Tom Riddle. It's nice to meet you, Harry Potter. What is the date?_

_It's Christmas Day, 1991. How is it that you can reply to me? _Harry felt... Excited, by this book. _How old are you, Mr. Riddle?_

_Please, call me Tom. 1991, you say? I am sixteen years old and this is my journal. I have enchanted it. Tell me - is Hogwarts still standing? You **are** magical, are you not? Potter is a Pureblood name._

_Okay, Tom. Hogwarts is still standing, yes - and I am magical. However, I'm half-blood, not Pureblood. My mother was a muggleborn. What is your lineage, Tom?_

The book didn't reply to him for a while. Harry had just changed into his pyjamas when it replied. _I am a half-blood too, Harry, although I don't have a remarkable name._

_Oh but you do! _Harry wrote, grinning to himself. _You have a tonne of books, don't you? I own a couple of them myself. **An Introduction to Darkness** and **Memory and You**! _Something occurred to him. _Tom, if you have written those books... How are you sixteen? The books look old._

The book hesitated on replying - numerous ink blots showed, before the reply was fully comprehensible. _This is a mere memory imprint, Harry. This book holds all of my memories up to now. I know nothing of my future, or how my name appears to be famous... _The book felt extremely smug. _So I am famous, then?_

_Yes, you are. What year is it there, then? Who is the Headmaster?_

_It's 1943. The Headmaster is Armando Dippet - although everyone knows that Dumbledore controls the school._

_Dumbledore is the Headmaster right now,_ Harry wrote, detecting a hint of annoyance from the book. **How strange**. _He's a kind man, but I haven't really spoken to him._

_He must think you're not special,_ the book seemed smug. _Remain that way, Harry Potter. Dumbledore is not a man whose attention you want._

Harry shuddered. He could almost feel the purr the book emitted at his name. _Hey, Tom? It's bed time for me now - but I'll talk to you tomorrow._

_Good night, Harry Potter._

* * *

The book was open when Harry woke up and, written in Tom's elegant scrawl, was _Good morning, Harry Potter. I trust you slept well?_

_Good morning, Tom. I slept very well, thank you! Hey, Tom... Do you think you could teach me things? Spells from 1943 must be different to how they are now, right?_

Text appeared, but Harry couldn't read it for the blots of ink and quill scratches running through it. Several more appeared, before there was a proper reply. _I can teach you, Harry, but in order for that to happen you would have to be in my journal with me. I tried to write several spells and, no doubt you can tell, my quill had a life of its own. If you continue to write in me, or even just have my book around, you will be able to join me soon._

Trepidation rose in Harry's stomach. What a strange request - keep the book around. What would that do? _Tom, why would I have to keep the book with me? What are you getting out of me talking to you?_

The book fell silent. Harry sneered and dropped the book on his bed, standing and feeling a slight sense of loss. "Mum..." His breath caught. He hadn't seen his mother for a long time; the lessons with Quirrel had made her disappear, but he wanted her back so much. She was always there and, while he knew it was wrong, it was okay; he had the power to bring her back, so why shouldn't he?

"_Because she died and you should leave it at that._" Harry swallowed heavily - the voices were back and this time, they were distinguishable. They were stronger. "_Come on, little Potter - hurt someone. Hurt - kill. C'mon!_"

"No!" he hissed, walking to his bathroom. His head twitched to the side as a floating ball of grey matter shot past where his head used to be. He started washing himself, brushed his teeth, stripped out of his clothing and changed into everyday wear. The voices continued, laughing, and Harry tried his hardest not to weep. He was only a child - how could he be expected to not only repress his emotions, but repress his magic as well?

"_Only babies cry, little Potter; you're not a baby, are you? Professor Quirrel would be **so** disappointed in you."_

* * *

_Professor Quirrel,_ Harry wrote, pale with worry.

_I really need your help. I thought I'd manage to suppress those poltergeist - I did everything you told me to do - but they're still here and my magic is responding again. I believe it's worse this time, because my hands keep on shaking and my face twitching; and I sneezed earlier and shattered my bedroom window._

_Is there anything you can recommend? Or - do? _Harry was really hoping his professor would meet him at Diagon Alley or his home, and tried to convey it more vehemently. _Are you free at all? I don't know what to do._

_I don't want to hurt someone, professor, and you're the only one who can help._

_Harry Potter,_

_Firstborn and Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter_

_Son of Lord James Potter and Lady Lily Potter_

* * *

To say that Voledmort was surprised to see such a beautiful snowy owl evade his wards and land in his throne room with no repercussions would be entirely true and lead to your death - but he couldn't wipe the surprise away quickly enough for Lucius' and Severus' sharp eyes.

He stepped closer to the bird and removed the leather pouch, slipping out a piece of parchment as he went. He read the letter quickly and smirked victoriously. "My Lord?" Lucius hedged, trying to discern the name at the bottom of the letter. He managed a glimpse of 'Son of Lord James Potter' before gleaming red eyes were on him.

"Yes, Lucius?" Voldemort smirked again, walking over to his desk and sitting down behind it. He quickly wrote a response, organising a date, time and location for Harry Potter and himself meeting.

"What will be done about the Potter boy? I gave him the journal, like you instructed. What about the stone? What about your body?" Lucius was a man of tact when it mattered - but his bodiless lord, living like a parasite on a weak man's mind... He cared little for tact.

Voldemort sniggered cruelly, avoiding the first question altogether. "The stone... The boy will get it and give it to me. I'll make a body from that."

"But what about the book?" Lucius pressed on, aware of Severus' pale face. He had paled the moment Harry Potter was mentioned, but he was even paler at the Dark Lord's laugh. Or maybe it was the fact that the Dark Lord was Professor Quirrel, a man who Severus had taken to belittling? Lucius wasn't sure.

"The book... Forget the book, Lucius. It isn't for you to know. Now, I need you to round up everyone who is loyal to me; I'm planning a raid, and we're going to kidnap Harry Potter."

Severus choked next to him, but he passed it off as coughing. "Kidnap?"

"Yes_ss_." Voldemort hissed, crimson eyes lit in amusement. "Is there a problem, Severus? Will you make me regret my very existence?" Voldemort cackled, leaning in his wooden chair and swinging his legs up on his desk.

Severus grimaced. "My Lord, I didn't know it was _you_. With all due respect, I thought you were a strange man with an unhealthy interest in the Boy Wonder and his sidekick."

"_Crucio_."

* * *

The second of January didn't roll around quick enough, but the moment it arrived Harry felt inexplicably unsociable and wanted to stay chatting to Tom, the journal. Unfortunately, the second was also the day that he had agreed to go to Knockturn Alley to meet Professor Quirrel, somehow losing Draco, Blaise and Charlie on the way (as well as Moony and Sirius, but they were easy enough to lose).

And that was how he found himself pushed into the mouth of Knockturn Alley, Charlie tucked firmly between Blaise and Draco and having all the fun in the world. They didn't even notice - so it was easy to lie and say he had gotten lost in Knockturn Alley and he couldn't find anyone.

He wasn't imposing - he looked like a lost child - and he couldn't do magic outside of school. Wandless magic was a massive no - he had been severely depleted after his stint with Albert Moon and he was leeching from Charlie the entire time - and physical combat wasn't his forte. Which meant he had to wander around and around until he stumbled upon _Borgin & Burkes_, where Quirrel was investigating one of the dark artefacts that Borgin and Burke had. He had the distinct feeling that he was _screwed_ - but, if he didn't rid himself of the voices, his sneezes would continue to break his bedroom window.

He gave one last, lingering look at Diagon Alley, before squaring his small shoulders and striding into the Alley like he owned it. He was swathed in a dark robe, complete with a hood - as the snow fell in large clusters, it wasn't unusual and nobody, especially has father, questioned his choice; Tom was incredibly pleased, as that meant he could go with Harry.

Harry sniffled slightly when a shop advertised "poisonous candles" and, with his pouch of money hidden beneath his cloak, he stepped into the store.

"He'o, lil' boy." An old crone sat at the back of the store, with white hair and yellowed skin. "Wha' you wan' from ole' Spydile?"

"I'm interested in your poisonous candles, as well as the location of Borgin and Burkes. I told my father I would meet him there, but I appear to have gotten lost."

The old crone cackled and hopped off her stool, limping over to the candles. They were all in various shapes and sizes, some a plain white and others sickly green, purple, yellow - his eye, in particular, was taken by a long one shaped like the bones in a human spine. It was an off-yellow colour, and while he didn't have a use for it yet, he was sure he could find one. Maybe Snape would enjoy it?

"Boy, tha' one yer' lookin' at ain't fer sale, no way. Not fer you." the lady snapped, pointing instead to a tiny purple one. "Wha' bou' tha' one, hm? Knock-out, proper good for a school boy - "

"I want that one, ma'am." Harry's tone allowed for no arguments, his magic rising in his ire. Who was this crone, dictating what he could and couldn't buy? "What does it do?"

The woman sniffed, her hooked nose rippling with the movement. "Grad'yull muscle loss then death. Ten galleons."

Harry fished out the coins and handed them to her, picking the candle up delicately and dropping it into his money bag. "Nice doing business with you. I was never here, right? Where's Borgin and Burkes?"

The old woman sneered again. "Cannae' say the same. Never where? Only Necromancer's can see me, boy. Borgin and Burke's is thirteen doors down, keep goin'. Get out."

Harry fled, his eyes wide. A Necromancer's-only shop? In Knockturn? The old crone was a Necromancer? He turned around, to ask a question, but found that he was at the mouth of Knockturn again. He blinked rapidly, and bolted down thirteen doors. On the left hand side of the bustling street, there was a building simply entitled, _13A_. On the other side, there was a shop named Borgin & Burkes. He staved off the never-ending curiosity he felt about this place and entered the dingy shop.

He couldn't see the purple turban of his teacher, which made him grit his teeth in worry. Did he stay? Browse the wares? Or did he do what his instincts told him to do, and high-tail it out of there? No doubt Charlie had noticed his disappearance by now, and he was probably freaking out. So what did he do?

He swallowed nervously and stepped in, closing the door behind him. The shop was large and dimly lit - a glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a gleaming glass eye. Strange masks stared down at him from the walls, all imbued with magic long forgotten and pulsating, begging, pleading to reap disaster once more. An assortment of human bones lay upon the counter and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling; Filch would probably love it here, had he not been a Squib.

He scanned the shelves for anything that seemed normal for a boy to buy, but the vials of glimmering blood _(was that Unicorn blood or something else?) _and a shiny pearl necklace that had a slip of paper reading, "CURSED", didn't scream age-appropriate.

"Can I help you, lad?" The voice was gravelly and, as Harry turned, he caught the eye of his Potions Professor; he had never been more grateful for wearing his bulky cloak than he was now.

"No, sir." Harry replied, the stooping man behind the counter cackling and brushing his greasy hair out of his face. "Well... You can, actually. These masks... What type of magic are they?"

The man cackled louder, but didn't reply. Harry rose a condescending eyebrow and sighed, before drawing his magic into himself and exploding it out again, the bones on the counter flung into the gloom of the shop. "Don't test me, Borgin. The mask on the far left, with the laughing face and blood splatters. How much?"

Borgin paled and shrugged his shoulders, standing a little taller as the shop door opened again. "How much ya' got?"

Harry sneered in response. "You're annoying. I'll give you forty eight Galleons for it."

"You jest, surely!" The man sniggered like Harry had told a large joke, and his magic bristled.

"Thirty." Harry shot.

"Forty five." Borgin shot back, unaware of the cloaked figure walking up to Harry. Harry had noticed, and those azure eyes trained on him were more than a little unnerving.

"Twenty five." Harry grinned wickedly, shaking his pouch beneath his cloak. The coins clinked together, the candle also making a dull thud.

"..." Borgin frowned, and looked at the mask the boy was talking about. It was nothing special, so why was the boy fighting him so hard? "Twenty five, then, boy."

Harry smiled victoriously, already placing the amount on the counter. Borgin glared and waved his wand, the mask clattering off the wall and the man shot it into Harry's hands. He turned around to find something, and Harry took ten Galleons off the counter.

"Hello, sir." Harry greeted the man with the azure eyes cordially, and the man winked in response. "Professor?" Harry asked, surprised, and the man nodded. Harry tugged open the mouth of his pouch and emptied his coins into it, before shoving the mask in there too.

Voldemort took the boys arm and pulled him out of the shop. "Good haggling there, Harry. I couldn't help but laugh when you took some of your money back, as well. Come, to Diagon. The gloom of Knockturn Alley is disheartening."

Harry nodded, following behind the man dutifully. Unbeknownst to the pair, Snape began to follow them. He could recognise the Dark Lord from a mile off and the fact that he had met someone from Borgin & Burkes only spelled disaster. He had tipped Dumbledore off about the raid the Dark Lord had planned, and the man hadn't told anyone. People were milling around like there _wasn't_ going to be an attack in approximately five minutes.

* * *

"We're being followed." Harry murmured as they reached Diagon Alley. "Have you noticed?" Harry dropped his cloak hood and Voldemort did the same, shocking Harry. His professors face had changed slightly - the nose was less pronounced, and his face had filled out. He even had a full head of dark hair, which also surprised the boy - he was sure his professor was bald.

"Honestly? I hadn't." Voldemort sighed, waving his hand in exasperation. "Now, about your poltergeist problem. A ring of salt didn't work?" Harry shook his head. "Interesting... Maybe you should try to get rid of them using your magic?"

Harry pursed his lips. "Is that plausible? I'd somehow learnt necromancy at aged one and brought back my deceased mother. I only do small things - actually dabbling in the magic? I've never done that before."

"Have you not been reading the books I gave you?" Voldemort snarled, suddenly feeling a hot flush of anger that dissipated immediately. He recognised it straight away - Harry had the journal on his person, and his nosy younger self was listening in. "It's explained in the books what to do."

"I tried, honestly! But in between finishing my essays, reading those other books you gave me by T. M. Riddle, which are extremely _brilliant_ by the way," Voldemort smiled slightly. His books were his pride and joy. "And impromptu training sessions with my dad and Sirius, I couldn't get started on the," His voice lowered. "_Necromancy_ book. The Language one is so interesting, but somebody changed the spells. I'd love to know the older spells," Harry sighed in pleasure. "I'm trying to get through them all, sir, I really am."

"I know you are, boy." Voldemort sighed again, looking around. The raid was set to start in three minutes. "Well, I'd recommend you start on the Necromancy book as soon as possible, because page fifty-six is very sensitive to your plight. Come. I wish to buy you a pet."

"A pet, sir?" Harry blinked in confusion, shuffling after the man and brushing the snowflakes from his hair. "I already have a pet - I have a little cat. And Hedwig, too; I don't need any animals."

"Ah, but I want you to have a snake, _my little serpent._" Voldemort crooned, his voice as soft as a whisper, but the Parseltongue was lost on Harry. It just sounded like plain old English to the boy. "Snakes are loyal and, dare I say it, pretty damn awesome."

Harry laughed brightly, nodding his head. "Of course, sir."

* * *

Snape was pretty damn sure he was going to have an aneurysm by the end of these five minutes. The boy the Dark Lord had met was Harry Potter - and they were on friendly terms. And the Dark Lord had been giving him books. And was going to buy him a snake. And Harry Potter was a Parselmouth. And the raid was going to occur in three minutes.

He just couldn't catch a break.

* * *

Voldemort strolled into the pet shop like he owned the place, which made Harry grin. His Defence Professor was brilliant. "Come, Harry. Which would you like?"

Harry looked around in bemusement, aware of the snake area in the Magical Menagerie, but never actually approaching it. The soft hisses were amusing, too -

"_What is this man-child doing?_"

"_I don't like the walkers._"

"_Hide me, mummy!_"

Harry's eye was taken by a dark, shimmery snake. The scales were a soft khaki, but they faded into grey and white down the length of the body. "_Hello_," Harry greeted, aware that he was speaking the snake tongue. The snake looked up, and flicked it's black tongue out. "_My name is Harry. Would you like to come home with me? I promise I'll look after you, precious._"

"_Is that my name?_" The snake flicked her tongue again, the voice soft and weak. "_Precious? I will go with you, Harry. Your snake-tongue is very pleasing._"

Harry grinned, dipping his hand into the tank and letting the serpent sluggishly crawl her way up to his wrist. The snake was tiny compared to the other snakes, as she was only a baby, but she was incredibly long. "A Black Mamba, Harry?" Voldemort laughed, a deep sound, and threw his head back. "I could think of nothing better. Come, let's pay, and I'll buy you a Butterbeer."

Harry giggled with Voldemort, secretly loving the reaction he'd gotten out of the man, and bought the necessary items for his lovely new snake. "_Do you want to be called Precious?_" Harry asked. "_Do you have any other name?_"

"_I have no other name, Harry._" The snake wrapped her tail firmly around his wrist, nestling around his neck. "_Please could you help me, Harry? One of the other snakes attacked me, and I haven't been the same since._"

His poor little snake had been poisoned! "Professor?" Harry turned to the man, gasping in horror. "She's ill! Astraea is ill!"

"A fitting name," Voldement muttered, off-hand; he removed his wand from it's holster and ran several diagnostic spells, despite the snake making it awkward by hiding and burrowing into Harry's warm body. "Easy fix!" Voldemort grinned, azure eyes boring into Harry's emerald, and he flicked his wand.

"_I feel better already!_" the snake hissed sleepily, tightening her grip around Harry. "_Astraea? Is that my name? Precious Astraea?_"

"_If you wish,_" Harry cooed, stroking the snake softly. "_Go to sleep, lovely._"

**_Boom_**.

Voldemort grit his teeth, but inwardly he was a bundle of excitable nerves. "Harry, get out of here." He could just about see a plume of smoke rising above the Leaky Cauldron, and he could hear both frightened screams and in tune footsteps. His Death Eaters were here. "Harry, go!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Where do I go, sir? What about my family; Draco, Blaise?!" The boy drew his wand into his hand, and held his body taut.

"Harry, _go_!" Voldemort pushed the boy back as another explosion pushed frantic people their way. "There are going to be over a thousand people rushing our way, _any minute_. Go."

"What about you?" Harry was ashamed to realise his eyes welled with tears. "I can't go without you, sir. You're my - "

"I'll be fine, Harry," Voldemort kneeled, brushing a hand through the boy's hair. He was touched by the tears; and even though the boy hadn't finished his sentence, he assumed he was something akin to a 'best friend' to the child. "Go. I don't know who it is attacking, but they'll be after you. Who isn't? The Boy-Who-Lived... I'll be absolutely fine." Voldemort wiped away a stray tear from the boys face, before roughly shoving him away and shooting off several spells at once.

Harry bolted, running until his chest hurt and people were in front of him. His eyes stung, but he couldn't stop running - was Charlie okay? Moony? Sirius? Or even Draco and Blaise?

"HARRY!" Draco screeched; yes, it was Draco, Harry beamed, tears finally falling from his eyes, and he grabbed the blond boy close, ripping him through the crowd. "What do we do?" Draco cried, his pale face flush and his eyes red. "Where did you g-go?" He hiccuped. "We - we were in the Ice Cream Parlour, looking for you and Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black, but you weren't there and then the Leaky Cauldron _blew up_!"

"I was - with Professor Quirrel," Harry panted, beginning to slow. Where was the crowd running to? It was pointless! They were all out in the open, no buildings, nothing! Astraea was hissing and clinging to his body, but he was pleased her small fangs hadn't pierced his skin. "I was - the, the - Menagerie! I got a snake, and Quirrel was going to buy me Butterbeer, and then something exploded." Harry sniffled weakly, feeling much like the eleven year old boy he was. His hand was still tightly wrapped around his wand and he made no move to put it away, knowing there was worse to come.

He wasn't wrong.

They were standing in an open place, just cobblestones and dilapidated buildings - and there were numerous ominous cracks around them, figures swathed in black and wearing white masks, circling the group and pressing them against each other.

"Harry!" Draco cried again, tears falling down his face. "What do we do?"

Harry grit his teeth and removed his cloak, throwing it over Draco and bringing up the hood. Astraea hissed at the further decrease in temperature and moved down to his chest. He pushed his wand into the holster and opened his money pouch, removing the mask from his bag. "What's that, Harry?" Draco muttered, his voice broken with sobs that Harry didn't acknowledge.

"A mask... For Necromancers." Harry bit his lip in thought. The mask was excited in his hands, shaking and reverberating, but Harry shoved it back in his pouch and shoved the pouch in his vest. "Draco, what do I do? Why are they here? They're Death Eaters, aren't they?"

Draco nodded, one hand clasping Harry's tightly. "I won't let them hurt you, Harry. Daddy will protect me, and I'll make him protect you." Draco promised, mercury eyes bright but loyal.

"_Bring us Harry Potter._" The Death Eaters intoned, and Harry blanched. There were cries of outrage and cries of horror as another man appeared in the circle, blocking their only way out.

The man's power pulsated wildly, angrily - the magic was thick and clinging and smelt of death, decay - and Harry knew this was Lord Voldemort, and that he was going to die.

A sob passed his traitorous mouth, before he locked down on his emotions. "I won't let them, Harry! I promise!" Draco pulled Harry forward into a warm hug, the cloak hiding them both. "I'll - Daddy will find me, and I won't let you go."

Harry pressed a soft kiss to Draco's hand enclosed in his own, before he heard the sound of a body hitting the floor. Several more followed, and he peeked out.

People were dying because of him, and they weren't Death Eaters.

He tore himself out of Draco's grip and ran, his eyes wild. "Stop it!" he roared, his magic crackling and blistering and _crying_ around him. "I'm here. You want me - so why are you hurting them?"

"HARRY!" Draco screamed, running forward and pulling on Harry. "Don't - stop! Not Harry, please, not Harry!" He begged, looking laughing crimson slits. "Please, sir. Not Harry. Don't kill Harry."

Voldemort cackled, a high, ringing sound, and lurched forward. He separated to two boys and Harry looked up calmly, the only trace of his fear in his hands. They shook. Voldemort looked down, just as calmly, but his hands didn't shake like Harry's did.

One loutish Death Eater laughed and a red curse shot forward. "_Crucio!"_

Harry tried not to scream, even going as far to bite his lip. Why him? He wondered. Why was it his fault? No sound left his bitten lips, enraging the woman further.

Draco whimpered and stood, making up his mind. He rushed forward and slammed his shoulder into Harry's right side, sending the boy flying to the left and putting Draco in the curse fire.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry hissed, his Yew wand in his hand. The Death Eater, a female with wild black hair, giggled before the curse hit her and deflected it, making Harry duck his weak spell. "**_Incendio_!**" he yelled, and the woman's skirts set alight with brilliantly red flames, and she laughed louder.

Voldemort sighed. His Death Eaters were always so quick to anger, especially Bellatrix - and Harry's particular brand of stubbornness that Voldemort adored, Bellatrix loathed. "Stop."

Bellatrix scowled, trying to put out the flames of her dress, but nothing was working. "What did you do?" she shrieked as the flames began to boil and lap at her skin. The Dark Lord sniggered and extinguished the flame, hissing much like Harry did. His crimson eyes sparkled with emotions that Harry couldn't identify, but he felt like he knew the Dark Lord.

"The thing about saying spells in another language, is that they're so much stronger." Harry grinned, his eyes dark with emotion. "Now - " He turned, aware of the Dark Lord at his back but hoping the man wouldn't want his enemy dead from behind. Maybe ten years or so of hatred meant he'd get tortured too - buying him some time to put some of his limited public speaking knowledge to the test. "There are roughly twenty men or women surrounding us, including a Dark Lord. There are sixty normal witches and wizards, with education under their belts, and they're just standing there, watching an eleven year old boy do magic and breaking the law. And I wonder why it was only Dumbledore who could defeat Grindelwald." He sighed in mock disappointment, and his confident speech seemed to do the trick. He wasn't feeling confident, definitely not, but his friend was on the floor crying from pain - and these people were watching, staring, and the confidence built. "What the Hell are you doing?" Harry barked angrily, and the people snapped into action.

The arrays of colour and the cries and screeches and the unity was his fondest memory to date.

"Well done, Potter." the Dark Lord murmured, the emerald-eyed boy turning in confusion. "My original plan was to kidnap you and torture you into a mindless mess, but if you can command people who barely know you..." The man revealed his face, two deep slits for a nose and lipless mouth and skin with thick scales and _Merlin he was so ugly!_ "I'll see you soon, Boy Wonder."

And the Dark Lord Apparated away, his men attacking and murdering. Harry was left, bemused, until his friend reminded him of his presence with a sharp retch.

Harry dropped to the floor beside Draco and wrapped his arms around the taller boy. "Stop!" Draco groaned, his eyes clouded with pain. "I hurt so much, Harry..."

Harry soothed the boy, stroking his hair, erecting a bubble shield around the pair. The Death Eaters weren't targeting them; Harry couldn't decide if it was because Draco was the Heir to the Malfoy family _(and Lucius would slaughter them)_, or if there was another reason.

"What do we do, Harry?" Draco moaned, his body filled with tremors. "People are dropping like flies and I don't - we can't Apparate, and we can't contact - t - " Draco began to stammer, his eyes twitching wildly.

"Draco?" Harry gasped as Draco began to convulse and stop again. "Are these after affects of the Cruciatus?" he asked no one in particular, swallowing. "Draco, can you hear me? _Episkey. Episkey. **Episkey. Episkey.**_" Harry was pleased to note the shaking and convulsing gradually stopped, until it seemed like Draco was just sleeping in his arms.

"Draco?" Harry's head shot up. His eyes met the slate eyes of the Malfoy Lord, and Harry dropped his bubble shield. The battles around them had ended and Harry didn't know when or what the outcome was, but his dad was standing next to Lord Malfoy and so was Blaise and Charlie and Sirius and Moony and - what did he do?

"Sir..." Harry greeted, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. The two boy's were covered in snow and they were damp, sodden, but Draco wasn't shaking and everything was fine because his dad was here and Charlie was safe. "Um - a female Death - ah, Death Eater - Torture curse - Draco." Harry flailed, trying to explain it but words couldn't really explain what had happened, could they? It was all so quick, and Harry was pretty sure Episkey couldn't cure Cruciatus jitters, or the after effects, or even fix anything, really, and he felt _sick._

He turned to the side and retched, his stomach emptying on the bloodied ground next to him, and he felt so _much_ worse - what had happened? He wondered, his eyes clouded. Why hadn't the Malfoy man come to take his child from Harry yet? Why were they all just standing there?

_Hiss. _Astraea? Harry wondered why his snake wasn't around his neck and _Professor Quirrel_ - "Is Professor Quirrel okay?" Harry squeaked, but nobody was forthcoming as the vicious Black Mamba snake reared her head and hissed viciously, protecting her Harry. "_Astraea! Stop! They're my family. Come here._"

James choked on air as Harry began to hiss, and accusing eyes turned to him; Charlie's, in particular, was vicious and probing. "Er - Harry? Could you drop the barrier, please? I'm pretty damn sure Malfoy wants his son."

"_What_ barrier?" Harry spat in reply, his eyes spitting fire. "And where the Hell were you when Draco was getting tortured?" Harry's ugly, domineering side was kicking in, because he sure as Hell didn't know what had happened or what was going on, and somebody was going to have to take the lead, regardless of emotion.

Lucius snarled in reply, his immaculate hair not as immaculate as Harry thought it normally was. "Drop the barrier, you fool!"

"What barrier?!" Harry shouted. "And what about Professor Quirrel?!"

"I'm fine, Mr. Potter. Now drop the damn magical barrier you're projecting." His teacher's voice was haggard and tired, but his teacher was _alive_ and he was _there_ and the barriers _(oh, so many more than one, _Harry thought_)_ began to fall. Lucius lurched forward with each one and Harry finally let himself collapse backwards when his magic realised there was no danger and he should just...

Stop.

* * *

**I like plot development. I also enjoy OOC characters. (okay there was another ending here but I didn't like it; revised ending)**

**I don't like long waits, but I also don't enjoy writer's block. **


	9. Dreaming

When Draco woke up, his body _hurt_. His head was reeling and he shook with every twitch or movement. "Harry?" he called, his voice cracked and his throat uncomfortably dry. "Daddy? Mummy?"

Laughing green eyes appeared above his face, followed by Draco's brain kicking into gear and he grinned. "Harry..." he breathed. "You're okay!"

"I'm okay, Draco. Do you need anything? Are your nerves okay?" Harry asked, lowering himself down to wrap his arms around Draco's stiff, twitching body and back off again. "Your dad's currently shouting a nurse, wondering why you haven't woken up yet and if she's damaged the Malfoy line or even his damn son she'll end up old and alone."

Draco chuckled. "Please could I have some water? No, they're shot to bits. That sounds like him. Is my mum here?" Draco took the condensed glass delicately and try as he might, he couldn't sit up without his legs cramping or his fingers twitching around the glass. "Um - Harry?" Pleading mercury eyes blinked and Harry smiled weakly, guiltily. He took the glass and set it aside, leaning over Draco and lifting him up, tugging him backwards until he was sat up and nestled in soft pillows.

"Your mum's currently screaming at the Medi-wizard for not having Professor Snape bring you a Cruciatus potion he made and the Medi-wizard doesn't know what's happening because he's not assigned to you." Draco cackled in laughter, his face lit up in amusement. "I'll go get them. Oh, and feel free to read the Daily Prophet, you little _pleading Malfoy boy, trying to save his best friend's - the Boy-Who-Lived's - life in front of his own death, his mercury eyes set in determination_, you."

Harry put it on his lap for good measure, the image of Draco slamming Harry out of the Cruciatus curse the front page. On repeat. Draco gulped but gave Harry an accepting smile. "Who took the picture?" Draco sneered. _Honestly - surrounded by Death Eaters and they take a picture instead of saving their own skin._

_**DEATH EATER ATTACK IN DIAGON ALLEY, FORTY TWO DEAD**_

_**MALFOY BOY: GOOD OR BAD? SAVES BOY-WHO-LIVED**_

_By Rita Skeeter_

Draco cursed loudly, already knowing this article wouldn't be great for his father. But, somehow, over the holiday and receiving Harry's heartfelt gift and the letters and the sweets... Draco had made a friend. A close friend. Maybe even a best friend - and his father couldn't begrudge him that. He felt privately smug, though - he had made the front page of the Prophet!

_Ladies and gentlemen, the events that transpired on the second of January cannot be forgotten. The horror that we felt as our beloved pub, the Leaky Cauldron, exploded into flames... As the Death Eaters, swathed in black and their masks as white as bone, stormed the path and sent people scurrying in fear. As one man, Professor Quirrell at Hogwarts, bravely took on several men before being blasted into a building._

_As Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy, pushed his friend, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, out of the way of the Torture curse and was held under it for a full minute. As moments prior he said, "Not Harry, sir. Please. Don't," and, the __pleading Malfoy boy, trying to save his best friend's - the Boy-Who-Lived's- life in front of his own death, his mercury eyes set in determination; _and the leader of the Death Eaters (we are suspecting a mimic, for our own Harry Potter destroyed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ten fateful years ago) sneered in his face. As his best friend, the Boy-Who-Lived, knocked one of the Dark wizards with a well-placed Stupefy.

_As we all know, dear readers, the Malfoy family has been under investigation for several gruelling months; why, Lucius Malfoy was suspected to be a Death Eater at one point. But, as we can see, he raised a good boy. We are thankful for the courage of Draco Malfoy, for saving our own Boy-Who-Lived._

_One does wonder, however, why young Harry Potter was permitted to use magic outside of school. The trace had been removed from his wand through the Ministry - but do not worry! I have spoken to the Minister and Lord James Potter himself._

_"As a young wizard who destroyed such a dangerous man, the boy must allowed to be prepared!" the Minister had said._

_"Harry is a gifted young boy, and he is permitted by law to defend himself and others; that meant the trace was removed and he could practice magic outside of school without being in trouble with the law." James Potter had to say, wearing new burgundy robes from the Wizards Weekly edition. Very dashing, I must say._

_More on the attack on page four._

_To see more about the heroics of the Forgotten Alley, turn to page three. We also managed to get a picture of Harry Potter valiantly protecting the fallen Draco Malfoy as the battle commenced._

"Disgusting." Draco scowled, wanting to push the paper away but his leg moved instead of his arm. "Forty two dead, and all they comment on is James Potter's bloody robes and my bloody 'heroics'."

"Completely agree, mate," James Potter chortled, standing in the doorway awkwardly. Draco belatedly realised he was in St. Mungo's, and that meant he had no privacy. _Best keep my opinions to myself. _"But, mate... Thank you." The man shuffled like a child. "For - y'know, saving Harry."

"I won't be doing it again," Draco sniffed, smiling slightly. "They didn't even tell the events right. His Stunner was rebounded so he set her on fire."

James coughed to cover a burst of laughter. "Harry's always been a fan of dramatics. But - yeah. Sorry about the whole 'you were meant to stay at my house not Saint Mungos' thing, too. Not part of the plan."

Draco snorted, and he gave James a massive grin. "I'd love to stay again, some time. It was fun."

"You're welcome to stay whenever you want. Well! I best be off. Now that you're awake, I'll be able to get Harry home."

Draco smiled again as the man left and his father shot in, dishevelled and in need of a shave. "I'm so sorry, Draco." Lucius murmured, sitting on the side of his bed and dragging his son close to his chest. "I didn't know you'd be going to Diagon Alley - I wasn't there, I didn't _think_ - "

"It's okay, father," Draco said stiffly. "Good thing Harry was there, right?" Draco leaned up slightly to whisper in his father's ear. "_I don't want to spy on them any more. I want him to be my friend._"

Lucius laughed. "Your mother said that this would happen. Fine. Just - don't get too attached. Not after yesterday."

* * *

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and grinned at Charlie. "Hello again."

Charlie sneered. "Don't you _ever_ - **_ever_** do that again. No going off with the Defence teacher because you couldn't find us, no antagonising Death Eaters that aren't afraid to cast the Unforgivables, and _don't_ you ever leave me again."

"I didn't exactly plan a Death Eater attack, you know. And, besides - what's wrong with meeting Professor Quirrell? I was certainly with the right person for an attack; and besides, you didn't notice I was gone! I got pushed into Knockturn Alley and you just kept going! Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Charles." Harry hissed, a hot flash of anger swelling in his gut. He brushed past the shocked boy, his cloak thrown over his arm and his snake wrapped around his chest.

He flew up to his room, biting his lip in an attempt to dissipate the anger. How irrational was he being? He couldn't decide. He went over to events of the day - he had deliberately deceived his family and friends into believing that they had left him behind and that he had met Professor Quirrell in Knockturn Alley - the man had saved him and taken him to Diagon Alley. Quirrell had, surprisingly, come up with a similar story - very similar, except he also said they found the snake in Knockturn Alley and it had gone to attack Quirrell, so Harry stopped it. James was so proud that he was using his 'dark' gift for the 'Greater good'. And it was all a big lie. Maybe he was being a little irrational, considering the events never happened... But, at the same time, nobody had searched for him properly. Did they? He didn't know that, either.

He sighed, looking longingly at his books. He wanted to finish the Memory book, or even the Parselmagic book - but sorting out his poltergeist problem came first.

He opened his trunk and searched through the clothing, finding the pulsating book. He felt drawn to the mask when he had the book in his hands, but he shook his head and flicked to the correct page.

_Depending on the poltergeist stalking you, there are several different specifications you have to follow. Is your poltergeist corporeal? Do they have a human form? If yes, skip the following section. If they don't have a corporeal form, and they're something like a floating ball, carry on reading. _

_A poltergeist of this calibre is not a spirit nor a ghost - it is a collection of energy. In this case, it would be likely that somebody is actually having these sprites follow you. To stop them, you must cut the connection between the sprites and magic of origin; you don't have to know the magic of origin, you just have to overpower it. Focus on the sprite. Focus your **magic** - but not your normal magic - your Necromancer magic and rip at it. Tear. Cut the threads keeping it together. It will stop._

Harry cursed. Necromancer magic? How did he focus that, when he didn't know how to do it? He flipped to the index of the book, but there was nothing on how to focus magic. "God _damn it_." His eyes flickered to the black leather journal and he smiled warmly, finding a quill and letting a bead of ink fall onto the open, black pages.

Tom replied instantly with a concerned, _Are you okay, Harry? You didn't speak to me much, yesterday. Who was that man you were with? He felt familiar. Professor Quirrell, right?_

_I'm fine, Tom. A little battered, a little bruised, shaking from being held under the Cruciatus curse (which nobody has asked about, despite it being obvious that I've been held under it, just like Draco) and a little confused about Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Yeah, it was Professor Quirrell. Guess what I bought yesterday, Tom? A candle! It's shaped like a spine, and it causes gradual muscle loss and eventually, death. Wicked, right? I also bought a mask filled to the brim with Necromancy magic, but I daren't put it on._

The book took its time to reply. _Why has nobody noticed, Harry? Lord Voldemort? Death Eaters? You're going to have to explain this. The candle does sound 'wicked' - are you planning to use it any time soon, or is it just an ornament? Necromancy? Why did you buy a mask with Necromancy magic surrounding it? You're not dabbling in that filthy magic, are you? Please don't say you are, Harry. That magic is dangerous. Oh - yesterday, you released a massive amount of magic two times. This now means I can bring you to me. Maybe you could explain everything to me?_

_That would great, Tom. Can I bring things with me to you, or would you rather I sketch an image of the mask, first? There's so much to explain._

_Please sketch, Harry._

Harry got to work, his quill scratching on the page. The ink didn't sink in until the picture was finished, and when it did sink the book began to glow. Harry bit his lip in confusion - what was happening? The pages flicked over by an unknown wind until they were at the very middle of the book - and the glow brightened and brightened until Harry could barely see. And then it just stopped - and then he was hurtling through the pages and his eyes were burning because memories were flickering through so quickly, so ferociously - and then he landed.

Harry blinked, looking around. He had landed on a bed, that he was certain. A _Slytherin_ bed. _His_ bed! "Cool!" He beamed, turning around in wonder.

"What's cool?" Harry turned to face the person who had spoken, and he was taken aback. _His _Tom looked nothing like _this_ Tom; this Tom was tall and handsome, with dark eyes and dark hair but skin as pale as snow. His Tom - or, his imagined Tom - looked like a younger Professor Quirrell, with light eyes and light hair and no damned turban.

"Tom?" Harry asked, smiling brilliantly. "How'd you'd that? You're very tall. This is my bed! At Hogwarts, now, or - in the future. I landed on my own bed!"

Tom stood, his white lips stretching into a mockery of smile that seemed like it hurt. "Very interesting, Harry. This," He sat down on the bed and leaned back, his eyes closing lazily. "Is my bed. What a coincidence. Does that mean they changed the order of Year, then? First years on the bottom?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "It's nice to actually meet you, Tom. I guess you want to know about yesterday, huh?"

Tom shook his head, one pale hand rising and pulling the Boy-Who-Lived down beside him. "Lord Voldemort. Death Eaters. Who - _what_ are they?"

"That's an... open question. Lord Voldemort is a Dark Lord that was supposedly killed ten or so years ago. He had a particular hatred of a Wizarding family and, on Hallowe'en, he went to their house to - well, murder their children." Tom sucked in a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered open. "He Stunned the father, I think, and carried on up to the nursery - "

"Nursery?" Tom exclaimed. "They were _babies_? He wanted to murder babies?"

Harry nod, slightly annoyed. "But what Voldemort didn't know is that the mother of the children was, while a Muggleborn witch, very powerful. Have you heard of the S_acrificet Salvum Familia _ritual?" Tom nodded. "Well, the mother did that to save the life of her twin boys."

Understanding began to dawn in Tom's eyes. "You're a twin, and your mother was a Muggleborn. Why did he target you?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Nobody knows. But, he tried to kill me, the closest baby, and the Killing Curse rebounded and hit him, instead. Now - the Death Eaters. They're his men. Some are dastardly dark and wicked with their wands, but others are just... Pathetic."

Tom nodded again and his eyes slid shut. "That mask... I was hoping it was something I'd know or recognise, but I don't know what it is. Keep it away from your face at any time; masks are brilliant, but you should never, _ever_ trust them. Now, Harry - Necromancy." His lips curved into a wicked smirk, but his eyes remained closed. "How is it that _you_, a boy of eleven, recognised a Necromancy mask, and can use such dirty magic?"

"Well... The Dark Lord had to get through my mother to me, and when you're a baby and have magic, the concept of not having something is lost on you, isn't it?" Tom nodded, opening his eyes. One hand raised and the older boy began to play with Harry's hair, although he wasn't entirely sure why he was so comfortable with the younger boy. "And - well, I wanted my mum, so I got her." Harry shrugged. "I guess the activation of the magic was the trauma, but I never really did anything with it. Just seeing spectres of people once dead was enough for me."

"_Enough_ for you?" Tom's voice was sardonic, bitter, and those bright eyes were locked on Harry's own. The younger boy gulped. "You have this brilliant gift, and _seeing_ dead people was _enough_? What about summoning demons? Raising the recently deceased? Having hoards of undead at your control?"

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered meekly, sitting up. "I was... taken, by other subjects."

Tom sneered and sat up too, poking the boy on the nose. "Like what? _Herbology_?" Tom's voice was, once again, amused, and another flash of hot anger surged through Harry's body.

"No!" Harry spat, unaware of his voice changing into a hiss. "Like Potions and Charms! Defence Against the Dark Arts - Hell, even the Dark Arts! Duelling! Sorry, Tom, for having a melodramatic maniac trying to _kill_ me!" Harry carried on, Tom's eyes wide in thought and confusion. "Sorry I couldn't exactly focus on _summoning demons_ when I'm trying to survive in a school while my twin brother gets death threats and one of my friends taking a Torture curse for me!"

The room began to spin again, and Harry was struck by a nauseous feeling of discontent. He hadn't wanted his first ever meeting with the boy to go so badly. _But was that my feeling?_ Harry wondered, questioning _(not the first time) _if he was insane.

The book was still glowing; peering at it, he cussed at the sight of Tom's elegant writing that made something change in his stomach. _I'm sorry, Harry._

"Go fuck yourself, Tom." Harry muttered tiredly, slamming the book closed and throwing it... somewhere. _Dirty magic_, he called it. Why would Harry want to learn and effectively use _dirty magic_? It was in the damned name! And what would the dirty magic do to him, hm? He didn't know, but if he couldn't even _call_ on the magic...

He was so frustrated.

* * *

"Should I talk to Harry?" James fretted, worrying his hands into a kitchen towel. "Charlie was so shocked when Harry said that to him - I mean, Harry shouldn't be feeling _bitter_ or anything, right?"

Remus frowned. "You haven't noticed, have you?"

James blinked uncomprehendingly at the werewolf. Remus shook his head in annoyance, and pointed to the picture on the Prophet. "_Draco_ is pushing _Harry_... Out of what spell?" James finally understood. "How long had Harry _been_ under that spell? What did Harry _not_ get treated for?"

James let out an angry curse. "Shit, Remus. Are you saying I ignored him or something?"

Remus rose one condescending eyebrow. "No, I'm not, James. I'm pointing out that Harry was held under the Cruciatus curse and he hasn't been treated for it. For as strong as you believe him to be, and for as much pressure you put on him to defend both Charlie and himself while you _sit_ there wondering how _bitter_ Harry could possibly be, he is a child!" The werewolf's voice had steadily been rising in volume until he knew that both Charlie and Harry could here it. Incensed, the wolf carried on, one of his pups injured and the wolf not being able to do a thing about it. "He is a young boy; so stop treating him like he's some kind of _guard_ for Charlie! It's _your_ fault you didn't train Charlie and it's _your_ fault that the death threat issue hasn't been handled! Get out there and _sort_ it, instead of sitting on your pompous _arse_ and do something about it!"

Breathing heavily, Remus took a sip of his tea, before placing the cup down delicately and storming away to the Fireplace.

James put his head in his hands.

* * *

_Death threats. _It reverberated around his brain, his eyesight blurring, his throat unable to swallow a large lump. _Death threats. Me. Death threats. Somebody wants to kill me. Dad asked Harry to guard me. Death threats. Harry could have died. **Death** threats._ And, despite the fact that Charlie was already aged beyond his years, he felt like he was thirty - or even ninety years older than his current eleven.

The tears began to fall.

He was aware of a horrible, heart-wrenching scream that seemed to echo around the Potter Manor, but so absorbed in his sobs, he didn't know where it came from. _Harry could have died. Harry is always trying to save me. I can never save Harry. _Was he so weak? Another scream now, and the red-haired child realised it was from his own throat.

* * *

_There was a woman and a man, Harry guessed, placing their shadows against each other. He wasn't close enough to see who they were; the room was distorted, like he was peering through frosted glass at a warm house during heavy snowfall._

_Crunch. Crunch. Step. Harry turned and saw Him. The Dark Lord. Harry was sure it was him, with the same suffocating magic that stunk of death and decay: it wasn't the man he saw at Diagon Alley, though; this man had a slim, pointed noise and sharp cheekbones, with thin white lips. His eyes were a dazzling crimson and he had raven black hair, tousled like Harry's own. He looked like Tom. _

_The Dark Lord stepped up to the house, and Harry stepped closer to the man. _

_The door flung open and the man stepped in; Harry followed, followed, followed to that room, but there was nothing in there that was distinguishable. There was only those two people, a woman and a man, and the Dark Lord._

_"**Hello.**" The Dark Lord's voice was soft, smooth and it rushed over over in waves of pleasure. "**Mr. and Mrs. - wasn't it?**"_

_Mister and misses who? Harry wondered, entranced by the beautiful Dark Lord with his cold, soft voice. He was a riddle, and he was one that Harry fully intended to riddle out._

_The man stood and barked out a reply, but Harry couldn't hear them. "**Ah, thank you.** **Your compliance is necessary for an experiment.**" The Dark Lord's voice had changed now, a sibilant drawl._

_The man replied again, and the Dark Lord smirked cruelly. "**Wonderful. Just - wonderful. You or your wife first, sir?**"_

_The man paled._

_The Dark Lord removed a knife from - Harry really didn't know where he removed the knife from, and he didn't want to look._

_But, like someone watching a car crash or a mugging, he continued to watch._

_The man's eyeballs went first, the woman seemingly immobilised and doing nothing. The Dark Lord carved around them, before conjuring a ten centimetre long needle and shoving it in the bleeding mess. _

_It popped._

_Harry wanted to retch, to cry, to scream, but he found it uncomfortably amusing, and a smile crossed his lips. The man's nose soon followed, scraped to the bone, and then it was his teeth, his fingernails, his toes - and Harry continued to smile as the Dark Lord's face morphed into Professor Quirrell's and Tom's and the Voldemort he saw at Diagon Alley._

_And then there was screaming._

_The man died, and the Dark Lord started on the woman. He had more fun, his face bright and child-like as he crudely hacked away at bare breasts, as he trailed the needle up to her thighs before roughly slamming it into her - Harry retched again, but he still had that wicked smile on his face as the woman screamed and cried._

_"HARRY!" Was that Charlie's voice? Harry wondered if it was real, or if it was his mind rebelling._

_"**I'll be waiting for you, precious.**" Harry looked up to find crimson eyes, bright - burning brilliantly - staring at him, and it was Tom with a soft smile on his white lips. "**When you're ready, you'll come to me.**"_

_Harry cocked his head in confusion. "But you're the Dark Lord, and I'm the Boy-Who-Lived." It was a fact. He wasn't refuting the man, especially after what he'd just witnessed._

_The man leaned forward and was about to say something, or maybe bite his earlobe, Harry wasn't too sure, but the young boy turned his head to look into the man's eyes. "What you want... You can never have."_

_"**Why?**" The man's voice was petulant but wicked, manipulative. "**I always get want I want, Mr. Potter. You would do well to remember that. If I say jump, you shouldn't even ask 'how high?'. And - and,**" The man broke off into loud chuckles. "**I have eyes and ears everywhere. Displease me, and this will be your family.**" He gestured to the people on the floor, and their faces and bodies changed and the **smell**, and Harry retched_ again _and let out a cry__ that pounded through his head and heart and down a link he shared with his brother and down **another** he didn't know existed.  
_

_"What do you want?" Harry asked, his eyes blank._

_The man answered like it was an obvious answer and that Harry should have known. "**Your l****ove - your loyalty. Trust****. You.**"_

_"Do I get no say?" He felt like a child again, when his dad had forced him into duelling lessons that he didn't want, and they were transported across his memory - or was it dream, or was it a vision? He didn't know. He was small, small - and Tom; "Why did you take the face of Tom?" and Tom was there, kneeling, one hand on his head while Harry sobbed and rubbed his eyes._

_The man cackled, and Tom's face changed. "**No say! Definitely no say - heh - always no say, Potter.**" _

_And those white lips were on his own, and Harry began to scream again._

* * *

Harry groaned, sitting up. His bones ached and on his right hand, his little finger had an uncontrollable twitch. But, and that was a damn large but, that was probably one of the best sleeps he's ever had. So far. He couldn't remember dreaming, or even what he dreamed about! It was refreshing.

And then the dream came flooding back.


End file.
